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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28105701">achilles wept</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/love_yourself_1358/pseuds/love_yourself_1358'>love_yourself_1358</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Achilles - Freeform, Angst, Descriptions of violence: War, Did I mention angst, Fight Scenes, Fluff, Foreshadowing, Grief, M/M, No Proofreading We Die Like Men, Oops, Overuse of 'worthless pride' motif, Protective Iwaizumi Hajime, Protective Oikawa Tooru, Tags to be added, Victory, We Deserve A Soft Epilogue, Well that took a sharp U-turn for the dark, follows the myth canon, iwaoi achilles, or more like we die like they did, patrochilles au, the illiad, when i say major character death i mean it</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 22:02:08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>38,611</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28105701</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/love_yourself_1358/pseuds/love_yourself_1358</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Achilles is a title: Best of men, blessed by the gods. To be Achilles is an honour beyond almost all.<br/>Oikawa Tooru is going to be the next Achilles. Iwaizumi Hajime is going to be by his side forever. There is going to be a war.<br/></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>"Why should I kill Hector? What has he ever done to me?"</em>
    <br/>
  </p>
</blockquote>The patrochilles iwaoi au that I needed and couldn't find and so decided to write.
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Oikawa Tooru &amp; Yachi Hitoka</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>58</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. begin-</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>SOMEHOW no one's done Achilles and Patroclus with Oikawa and Iwaizumi yet??? So here I am please enjoy~<br/>in this universe Achilles is a title to be won in a tournament and it's like a divine gift that's won by the worthy<br/><strong>Tags will be updated with the story</strong> in case any readers don't know the patrochilles story yet? I don't want to spoilers!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Achilles is a title: Best of men, blessed by the gods. ἄχος (áchos) "distress, pain, sorrow, grief" and λαός (laós) "people, soldiers, nation". A warrior to carry and absolve the suffering of his people.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>To be Achilles is an honour beyond almost all.</em>
</p><p>===</p><p>The Iwaizumi family moves to Aoba Johsai when Iwaizumi is 9. If Iwaizumi climbs the tall tree in his backyard, he can almost make out the pale ruins of the Jade Castle, Aoba-Joh. <em>The siege of the Little Giant.</em> He had heard of it in history lessons, back in Kita-daii, but to see the legendary battle site for himself was… an experience. He leans further, craning his neck, and suddenly-</p><p>"Yahoo~ Are you my new neighbour?"</p><p>Iwaizumi flails, overbalancing, and falls out of the tree with a <em>thump</em>. He scowls, rubbing his head. "What the Hades?"</p><p>A hand appears in his field of sight. The skin is pale and smooth, and the fingers are calloused in a familiar pattern. Iwaizumi's eyes follow the outstretched hand to meet a pair of chocolate brown eyes. "Hello! My name is Oikawa Tooru, and we're going to be friends!"</p><p>The breath leaves his lungs in a whoosh.</p><p>Even at the age of 9, Oikawa Tooru is already almost too beautiful, milk-pale skin and bronze-bright hair, grace in every movement and power thrumming under his skin. Iwaizumi can't quite tear his eyes away from his long, silky lashes, and the way the sunlight glints off his hair. Iwaizumi can almost understand why Mika-chan made such a fool of herself around Daishou, why Eichi was at Akira's beck and call.</p><p>Then Oikawa shoves his hand closer and frowns. The moment is broken. "You know, unknown-kun, it's customary for you to introduce yourself in return."</p><p>Iwaizumi scowls and grips his hand, pulling himself up. "Iwaizumi Hajime. Nice to meet you."</p><p>Oikawa beams. "Iwaizumi-kun! Nice to meet you. My family lives just next door, right next to the woods. I think I've heard of your family right? The one with the great warrior Iwaizumi Haruto?"</p><p>"My brother. He's… very accomplished. We moved here because this is where he's championing." He straightens up with familiar familial pride. "He taught me to swordfight."</p><p>"Then Iwaizumi-kun must be very skilled! I'm going to defeat you when we spar!"</p><p>"You?" Iwaizumi looks him over. Sword calluses line his palm and scrapes cover his limbs, but for all his beauty, Oikawa is still stick thin and gangly. "You couldn't even pin a butterfly."</p><p>There is a sudden frozen moment. In the wink of an eye, Iwaizumi finds himself flat on his back. Oikawa stands over him, eyes narrowed, a stick aimed at his throat. "Say that again."</p><p>Iwaizumi finds that his tongue has dried up in his throat. He stares up at him breathlessly. For a minute, there is no sound other than his heart pounding in his ears and the birds chirping in the trees. Then Oikawa smiles, the radiant sun, and stretches out his hand.</p><p>"My name is Oikawa Tooru, and I'm going to be the next Achilles."</p><p>Oikawa's eyes glow in the midday sun, and his heart skips a beat. For a split second, Iwaizumi sees Oikawa at the age of 20, tall and lean and golden, at the front of an army. Oikawa, the sun glinting off his armor, elegance and strength, fighting off an invader. <em>The next Achilles.</em> In that moment, Iwaizumi would have followed him to the ends of the world.</p><p>Oikawa's hand is still outstretched, a wordless offer in his fingertips and a challenge in his eyes. Iwaizumi feels a laugh bubbling up in his throat. He takes it.</p><p>===</p><p>Oikawa starts hanging around the Iwaizumi residence. Iwaizumi starts becoming friends with him.</p><p>That summer, Iwaizumi learns a lot about Oikawa.</p><p>He learns that while he himself is fascinated by bugs, Oikawa will scream if he so much as sees a beetle nearby. When he shoves a bug down his shirt as a prank, he gets his nose broken by flailing arms. Oikawa is stronger than he looks, and not as coordinated as he wants to be.</p><p>He learns that Oikawa is very good at apologising. And that Oikawa's mother is quite a gifted healer.</p><p>He learns that his favourite food is milk bread, specifically the milk bread his mom makes, but he'll eat anything sweet. Including the cream cake straight from Iwaizumi's hand.</p><p>Of course, the cream cake's taste is marred by the pain of his bruised jaw after Iwaizumi instinctively decks him. His brother would have ducked away laughing, but Oikawa's reflexes are far from that of a legendary warrior yet, and his chin is caught head on.</p><p>Iwaizumi learns to apologize. Over time, he gets almost as good as Oikawa. Except to Oikawa himself, of course. They're just like that.</p><p>The first time Iwaizumi sees Oikawa run, really, <em>properly</em> run, he feels the breath fly out of his lungs.</p><p>Oikawa's soles barely touch the ground, and he flies over the ground, his hair trailing out behind him, glinting gold in the sun. It's like watching a shooting star speed towards the ground, Oikawa running like Hermes himself.</p><p>Iwaizumi is entranced.</p><p>(He's even more impressed when Oikawa picks up a spear and easily throws it the same distance as his brother without breaking a sweat, turning back to him with a frown and a mutter of 'still too short'. Oikawa Tooru was destined for a spear, not a sword.)</p><p>That summer, Oikawa teaches him the roads of Seijoh, the back alleys where the stray cats are, the best shortcuts to get from one side to another, the paths to the temples and the stores with the best deals. Iwaizumi teaches him their family's hand to hand, corrects his sword grip and his stance, teaches him to wield a mace and hide a knife. Oikawa teaches him how to wheedle an extra cake out of the street vendors, the proper decorum of tea ceremonies, how to smile and speak just so and gain an adult's trust. Iwaizumi teaches him the warrior's code, the theory and history of wars, how to play chess and strategize to win.</p><p>(Oikawa is excellent at chess, and even better with people, but he doesn't win against Iwaizumi, not until they're both 18 and half tipsy on rice wine.)</p><p>They share tutors for music, for literature, for every area of knowledge a young noble son should know about. They share clothes, homes, sometimes beds when the nights get cold and boring. Their mothers meet over tea far too often, and shake their heads fondly at the pair. They are young, and full of fire, and slowly, somehow, they become best friends.</p><p>Their tutors made them pair up once to practice partner fighting. Once, and only once. It's the first and only time they beat their tutors.</p><p>As soon as they step into the ring, Iwaizumi with his sword and Oikawa with his spear; as soon as they position themselves back to back against their two tutors; as soon as their tutors lunge and they bring up their weapons in unison;</p><p>It's like a tuning fork is struck against their spines.</p><p>They fight in perfect harmony. Even after just one summer, Iwaizumi has already learnt enough about Oikawa, beat him enough times, to know his weaknesses and his strengths. Oikawa has studied Iwaizumi enough, sparred with him enough, that they cover each other perfectly, a matched pair .</p><p>They have their tutors down in 10 minutes flat.</p><p>===</p><p>In their first summer together, Iwaizumi learns three important things about Oikawa Tooru.</p><p>3. Oikawa Tooru has the most potential with a spear he's seen, and he's going to be the best spear thrower one day.<br/>
2. Oikawa Tooru has the potential and the drive to be the next Achilles.</p><p>And lastly, almost most importantly,</p><p>1. Him and Oikawa Tooru are best friends. That will never change.</p><p>===</p><p>The first time Oikawa calls him Iwa-chan is when they're thirteen, the beginning of fall.</p><p>It's also the first time Iwaizumi loses to him.</p><p>Oikawa's limbs have lost their awkwardness as they adapt to years of proper rigorous training, and his eyes flash with a teasing challenge. "Will this be the time I finally beat Hajime-kun?"</p><p>Iwaizumi slides backwards smoothly and blocks a fist, sending out a kick at the same time. "Nah. Your stances have improved, but don't push your luck."</p><p>Oikawa smiles mischievously. "Will Iwa-chan finally praise me when I beat him?"</p><p>"<em>Iwa-chan???</em>" Iwaizumi's heart skips a beat and his punch falters at the sudden nickname. Oikawa's eyes hone in on the sudden weakness and he lunges, a leg sliding behind Iwaizumi's knee and <em>hooking</em>, and Iwaizumi finds himself pinned to the ground by Oikawa for the first time since they've met.</p><p>Iwaizumi feels his face warm at the sudden intimacy of the position, Oikawa's triumphant face glowing just a few inches from his. He leans back and offers his hand, a mirror of their first meeting, and Iwaizumi takes it, pulling himself up.</p><p>"So?" Oikawa is all bright smiles and laughter. "I finally beat Iwa-chan. Are you going to praise me?"</p><p>Iwaizumi drags a hand through his hair, looking anywhere but his face. "Yeah, Shittykawa." His voice is hoarse, a lump in his throat. "Good job."</p><p>He avoids his eyes for the rest of the day.</p><p>They're lying side by side on their futons later when Oikawa speaks. "Iwa-chan?"</p><p>"…yeah, Shittykawa?"</p><p>"It <em>is</em> okay if I call you Iwa-chan, right?"</p><p>"Yeah, dumbass. We're friends. It's fine."</p><p>Oikawa rolls towards him, eyes wide in the scant moonlight. "The Achilles Tournament is in a few years."</p><p>Iwaizumi grunts sleepily in acknowledgement. "Go on."</p><p>"Your brother… he'll be going for it, won't he? The best warrior Seijoh has seen?"</p><p>"…Yeah, probably."</p><p>"Iwa-chan, do you think I'll be good enough by then?"</p><p>"You beat me in the Iwaizumi style of fighting, the style in which I've trained since birth. You're the best spear fighter I've ever seen, or at least you will be. You're all rounded and charming. What do you think?"</p><p>"…I want to know what you think, Hajime."</p><p>The silly nickname is gone in an instant. Iwaizumi looks towards him and sees vulnerability in every shuddering breath, Oikawa's eyes wide and almost begging. <em>Tell me I'm good enough. Tell me I can be the next Achilles.</em></p><p>Iwaizumi rolls back on his back and stretches languidly. "You want to know what I think?" His hand finds Oikawa's, and Oikawa freezes. "I think you're good enough, Tooru." He presses the  hand to his lips, and hears the breath hitch in Oikawa’s throat.</p><p>"I'll support you over my brother in your bid for Achilles."</p><p>Oikawa swears him as <em>philtatos</em> the very next day. With a declaration like that, how could he not?</p><p>===</p><p>They make other friends, of course. But Oikawa's smile is just a little too shiny, his eyes a little too stiff. Iwaizumi glances at him from the side of his eye and says nothing, but he squeezes Oikawa's hand in warning anyway.</p><p>Oikawa tells him one night, sprawled on the beach tracing the stars. <em>Iwa-chan, they don't understand me. It's almost painful to have to talk to them. They don't make sense, not like you do.</em></p><p>Iwaizumi presses on. <em>Still, you need friends.</em></p><p>Oikawa turns to him, his smile dazzling in the moonlight. <em>Whatever. I have you, don't I?</em></p><p>Iwaizumi ignores the wave of emotion washing over him.</p><p>===</p><p>They improve at impossible speeds. Oikawa's bronze-gold hair grows to the nape of his neck, brushing his shoulders, tickling the bottom of his ribs. He refuses to cut it, citing years and years of 'hard work' and patience. As a compromise, Iwaizumi offers to braid it, to keep it out of his eyes. He ignores how his stomach squeezes with happiness when Oikawa agrees.</p><p>Oikawa is far too close to him, his back warm pressed against his arms. Oikawa's hair is liquid bronze cascading in his hands. Iwaizumi deftly separates it into sections and weaves it together, his fingers a whisper on the back of his neck. The first time, it's tangled and messy, prompting a squawk of rage. The second, it's marginally better. By the end of the day, Iwaizumi knows how to do a basic braid.</p><p>(and if later he goes to ask the pretty florist to teach him to braid hair, no one needs to know about it)</p><p>And from then on, Iwaizumi is the one who braids Oikawa's hair, before they train, before they run, before bed.</p><p>===</p><p>They're growing up. In hindsight, they should have seen this coming.</p><p>Oikawa wakes up one day to find that his bronze hair has darkened to almost brown and screams so loudly that Iwaizumi crashes into his room, sword in hand, ready to fight off whatever invader that has somehow made their way past the guards.</p><p>"<em>IWA-CHAN,</em>" Oikawa shrieks. "MY HAIR."</p><p>Iwaizumi drops his sword with a clang and hurls a vase at him. "Olympus, Trashykawa, I thought someone was here to kill you!"</p><p>Oikawa stares at him with huge watery eyes, his hands clutching his braid. "Iwa-chan, my hair is <em>brown</em>."</p><p>Iwaizumi stares at him like he's grown a second head. "Yes. And?"</p><p>"It's <em>brown</em>!! I look common!"</p><p>"…did you really not see this happening?"</p><p>Oikawa screeches, betrayed. "Iwa-chan, you saw my hair darkening and didn't say anything?"</p><p>Iwaizumi tilts his head to the side. "It's… normal for your hair to darken with age?"</p><p>Oikawa positively sobs as he flops back down on his bed. "I look terrible!"</p><p>He rolls his eyes and hauls him back up, dragging him outside. "Don't worry, your posse of fangirls will still find you pretty."</p><p>"Will Iwa-chan find me pretty?"</p><p>"You know, when we first met, I thought you were almost supernaturally pretty." The confession falls from his lips almost unwittingly.</p><p>Oikawa gasps and clutches his chest, hair momentarily forgotten. "Iwa-chaaaan, that's so sweet!"</p><p>"Of course, that was before you opened your mouth and revealed your shitty personality."</p><p>He tackles him to the ground. "You take that back! I'm pretty, you said it yourself! Go on, say it: Oikawa Tooru is pretty!"</p><p>"Oikawa Tooru is prettyyy… annoying."</p><p>Oikawa pinches him. "Iwa-chan is so mean to me!"</p><p>Iwaizumi glares at him but he can't stop his eyes from softening. "Yeah, just to you."</p><p>===</p><p>They sneak out too much.</p><p>Iwaizumi loves hiding in the forests, exploring every nook and cranny till both of them know the woods like the back of their hand. He loves climbing the trees, high above everyone else, and following the animals, light-footed and unnoticed. He loves how Oikawa's long hair dapples in the sunlight streaming through the trees, loves watching Oikawa scramble up branches, loves watching him stain his lips on fresh blueberries.</p><p>Oikawa loves the ocean, the beach. He loves the gentle glow of the sun dipping below the horizon, the soft sand between his toes, running along the shore with Iwaizumi chasing after him. He loves the sea breeze, loves the water on his skin, loves the taste of salt and opportunity in the air. He loves how Iwaizumi's smile softens as he looks out over the water, how his hair looks plastered to his head, how he laughs at the sight of Oikawa soaking wet, having fallen into the water.</p><p>Iwaizumi loves Oikawa. Oikawa loves Iwaizumi. Most days, they end up on the beach, bathed in golden sun and salty wind. They end up chasing each other through the cove, laughter echoing off the walls of the caves, sand sneaking everywhere and following them home. Iwaizumi untangles Oikawa's hair after the sea breeze and braids it back, fixing his mask for the general public. This is a side of Oikawa that only Iwaizumi sees, hidden among the seagulls' cries and the gentle crashing of the waves.</p><p>They sneak out too much. It's a bad habit they just can't break.</p><p>They're walking back one day when they hear them. First, the great bell tolling. Then, the steady pounding of the announcements drum, a pattern that itches his brain, familiar but not familiar enough. Lastly, the mourning horn, low and thrumming. Iwaizumi feels his hair stand on end as the sound resonates through his bones. <em>Something bad has happened.</em></p><p>"Iwa-chan, someone died." Oikawa's eyes are wide with fear. "We have to get back!"</p><p>Iwaizumi's heart pounds against his ribs in the same rhythm as their footsteps, Oikawa slowing to match him. <em>someone died someone died someone died someone died-</em></p><p>His feet glue themselves to the cobblestone.</p><p>Oikawa flails at the sudden stop, turning around with eyes full of concern. "Iwa-chan?"</p><p>His tongue sits heavy in his mouth, and his vision tunnels. He feels himself sway alarmingly, and Oikawa is by his side in a flash, a steadying arm wrapped around him. "Iwa-chan, what-"</p><p>The house decked in black mourning is his own.</p><p>He scrambles towards it, feet numb. <em>Who… no. it couldn't be.</em></p><p>The door smashes open beneath his hand. His mother looks up, face wet with tears. In her hand, a letter. Iwaizumi beelines for it, snatching it out of her hand. She doesn't even reprimand him for the rudeness, just sobs and turns away, and Iwaizumi feels a thick blanket of doom settle in his stomach.</p><p><em>We regret to inform you that Iwaizumi Haruto has fallen in battle, cut down by an enemy. Due to a perceived slight to his commanding officer-</em> his commanding officer? His brother, a war hero, under some pipsqueak general without an ounce of courage? -<em>he was deployed separately from his philtatos. Due to a shortage in men, he engaged in battle against medical advice, with a thigh wound and a sprained knee, and took down ten men before he died. He will be honored and remembered forever. Hail, Iwaizumi.</em></p><p>The paper warps under the pressure from his fingers.</p><p>
  <em>My brother is dead.</em>
</p><p>It's only after the funeral, after the <em>tsuya</em>, after Iwaizumi Haruto's ashes are scattered among the ruins of Aoba Castle, that Iwaizumi lets himself break down, his face crumpling in tandem with his legs. Oikawa's arms come up and he hugs him close. Iwaizumi inhales, deep shuddering breaths, and sobs his heart out. Oikawa watches the stoic boy cry, and feels his heart clench. In an instant, he's made up his mind. Before he can say anything, Iwaizumi speaks, face still buried in his shoulder. "My brother is dead."</p><p>"I know, Hajime." Oikawa's voice is the softest it will go, quietly wavering. "I'm sorry."</p><p>"His philtatos is dead too. He… he followed him."</p><p>"I know," he repeats helplessly. "I'm sorry."</p><p>Iwaizumi rubs at his face. "His philtatos… I knew him. Katsu-kun."</p><p>"You mean… Miyamoto Katsuya? Miyagi's pride, who won the Battle of the Black Pearl?"</p><p>Iwaizumi nods. "That was in the last war, when he was deployed alone, before he was reunited with my brother. You knew him as the legendary warrior from Miyagi, but I knew him as my brother's friend."</p><p>"…What was he like?"</p><p>"He was even better at hand to hand than my brother was. He… he snuck me sweets at dinner and taught me how to climb a tree. When my brother beat me up badly in a sparring match, he wrapped my ribs and taught me how to fight dirty. He taught me the right way to saddle a horse and how to tie my yukata properly without tripping. He is… he <em>was</em> one of the best strategists in recent history, but he was one of the best men I've ever known." Iwaizumi's voice is soft as he speaks. His eyes brim over with tears. "He was like a second brother to me. And now he's dead."</p><p>"Oh, Hajime."</p><p>"They never should have separated them." Iwaizumi's voice is bitter. "They should have known that separating philtatos never ends well. Of course he would have followed my brother. He probably blamed himself for not being there."</p><p>"…Hajime."</p><p>Oikawa gently tips his chin up, and Iwaizumi's red rimmed eyes meet his.</p><p>"When I'm Achilles, no one else will die."</p><p>It's a foolish, childish promise. At 15, both of them should know better than to believe it.</p><p>Iwaizumi clings to him, to it like a raft in the sea.</p><p>===</p><p>Bad news comes like a flock of crows descending on a carcass, one after the other. Oikawa Thetis collapses at the dinner table one night, blood streaming from her nose. Iwaizumi watches, but he watches Oikawa, his face as bone white as his knuckles tighten around Iwaizumi's arm, as his mother is carried to her bedroom on a stretcher. He watches as doctors from all over the country are summoned, but no one knows what's wrong. He watches as Oikawa throws himself even more into his training, barely a moment spent outside the sparring grounds. Iwaizumi matches him blow for blow for blow, bruise for scrape for ache, keeping pace with him through the nights, dragging him to dinner, to sleep, to somewhere other than the field. He understands the need to train, to strain your body until your mind goes quiet.</p><p>They're sixteen, and the Achilles Tournament is in three years.</p><p>Oikawa drags Iwaizumi to spar with him again, eyes too bright and body raring to go. Iwaizumi obliges, because Oikawa's dream is his dream too, and he wants nothing more than for Oikawa to become the Achilles as he so wishes. He wants it, desperately, he wants their pain to be relieved, wants Oikawa to reach the light he's straining for.</p><p>Halfway through a bout, Oikawa's leg twists and gives out from underneath him. The two of them tangle and go down with a scream and a puff of sand. Iwaizumi is the first to recover, and he turns to see Oikawa's knee already swelling up. Almost absurdly, he thinks back to the skinny boy who had pinned him in a second, to the message <em>We regret to inform you that Iwaizumi Haruto has fallen in battle, cut down by an enemy…</em></p><p>"Oikawa-"</p><p>"Don't." His teeth are gritted, his eyes squeezed in an effort to stop the tears. "You don’t have to lecture me, Iwa-chan."</p><p>Iwaizumi sits down next to him and gently takes his hand.<em>I understand.</em> Oikawa pitches sideways and buries his face in his shoulder.</p><p>They stay like that in the sand, two boys wrapped around each other, both trying not to cry.</p><p>"Iwa-chan." Oikawa is biting his lip so hard that Iwaizumi can see blood welling up around his teeth. "Iwa-chan, what do I do?"</p><p>"You rest. You recover. You come back stronger than ever." Iwaizumi stands and retrieves a plank and bandages. With calloused hands, he gently sets and splints Oikawa's leg. "Shittykawa, you dumbass, take better care of yourself."</p><p>Oikawa tries for a shaky smile. "Well, I have Iwa-chan for that."</p><p>Iwaizumi promptly scowls and flicks his forehead. "Don't be a moron. You can't be the great hero of mankind if you're missing a whole <em>leg</em>."</p><p>Oikawa lets his lip tremble comically and he promptly bursts into overdramatic tears. "Iwa-chaaaaan, so mean! Do you think I'm going to lose my leg?" Behind the teasing, Iwaizumi hears the undercurrent of fear. He flicks his forehead again, years of familiarity in the gesture.</p><p>"Don't be stupid, Tooru. You're going to be just fine."</p><p>===</p><p>He is. He recovers, and he trains, pushes himself just beyond his limits, striving to reach the standard he was before, to improve, to be better than the best. Iwaizumi watches him, arms crossed and brows furrowed, before picking up his own sword and joining him. At least this way he can almost control the pace at which Oikawa wears himself out. With his brother dead, the whole city thrums with expectations for Oikawa Tooru, the next champion of Seijoh.</p><p>(Iwaizumi starts sneaking away to the apothecary, to the healer’s house, to the woods, coming back covered in grime and sometimes blood and holding herbs, always with a satisfied smile on his face.)</p><p>It's a month after Thetis collapses when Oikawa suddenly stops in the middle of their morning run. "Hajime."</p><p>"What, no nickname?" Iwaizumi instinctively teases. His heart thuds. <em>This must be serious.</em></p><p>Oikawa turns to face him, brown boring into green. "Hajime, I need you to promise me something."</p><p>Reflexively, "Anything."</p><p>"No matter if I'm Achilles or not, we're both destined for the warrior's life. We've fought for it, trained for it, we're ready for it."</p><p>"Yeah."</p><p>"And you're my philtatos. We'll fight side by side, prize each other above all, because I'll put you first and you'll put me first. Where I go you'll follow, and I'll stay by your side."</p><p>Iwaizumi sees where this is going. "Yeah."</p><p>Oikawa's eyes are dead serious. "Hajime, promise me you won't follow me where you can't go. If I die in battle, promise you won't come after me there."</p><p>His breath catches in his throat. <em>His brother and Katsu-kun…</em></p><p>"Promise me!" Oikawa's gaze is heavy and searching, his eyes almost desperate.</p><p>Iwaizumi sets his chin. "Only if you'll promise the same."</p><p>Wordlessly, they clasp hands. <em>I swear.</em></p><p>===</p><p>Iwaizumi only sees Oikawa lose a bout once. It's against the champion of Shiratorizawa, Ushijima Wakatoshi. They're all on the far edge of sixteen, tall and almost grown.</p><p>He only catches the end of the practice match, but that's enough. Ushijima grabs Oikawa by his braid and <em>yanks</em>. At the same time, his leg kicks out and hooks Oikawa's bad knee. Oikawa gasps and stumbles to the side, his spear missing its mark wildly. He's pinned in no time, panting flat on his stomach with a knee digging into his back and a sword aimed at his spine. Ushijima looks at him in contempt.</p><p>"Oikawa Tooru. Sloppy, undisciplined, weaknesses everywhere. You want to be the next Achilles? You should have come to Shiratorizawa."</p><p>Even from a distance, Iwaizumi can hear Oikawa's loud "Fuck off".</p><p>Ushijima lets him up. "Your worthless pride is going to be your undoing. You're no match for me."</p><p>Oikawa gasps for breath, a pile of limbs on the ground. Iwaizumi marches over, dagger braced. "Ushijima, fuck off. He's worth ten of you. He'll beat you when you're least expecting it, just you wait."</p><p>Ushijima's face remains expressionless. He doesn't even speak, just turns and walks away. Iwaizumi is too busy running his hands over Oikawa, checking for bruises and on his knee to chase after him.</p><p>Oikawa finally meets Iwaizumi's eyes, and his are wet and burning with hatred. "That righteous bastard. I'm going to beat him one day."</p><p>Iwaizumi offers him a hand. "'Course you are."</p><p>Oikawa takes it. "One day. I'll be Achilles. And he'll regret it."</p><p>===</p><p>In their seventeenth summer, Iwaizumi learns a lot more about Oikawa.</p><p>He learns how all the girls in the city melt at his smile, how they bat their eyes and throw themselves at his feet, sigh dreamily over him and plan their weddings as he runs past. He learns how one of them had planned to love-potion him and swiftly dispatches that threat. He learns how Oikawa turns them down gracefully, somehow making them fall deeper than ever. He learns of the betrothals Oikawa has already rejected.</p><p>
  <em>("Dumbass, why would you reject that offer from the Katsukis? They're such a high ranking family!"<br/>
"Ow, Iwa-chan, stop hitting me! I'll get brain damage. I'm going to be a warrior, remember? I can't settle down and be some lady's trophy husband! Besides, there's already someone I'm interested in.")</em>
</p><p>
He learns how Oikawa's eyes look when he's drifting too far into his own head, learns when to ease him out gently and when to simply smack him and interrupt his thoughts. He learns that although Oikawa says his favourite food is milk bread, soba is what he scarfs down after training and ramen is what he eats when he's sad.
</p><p>
(He learns to make milk bread from Oikawa Thetis and ramen from the old shop owner on the corner. The first time Oikawa eats his milk bread, he actually cries.)
</p><p>
He learns what Oikawa looks like crying, learns what he looks like when he wakes gasping from a nightmare in the middle of the night. He learns to gently prod him into talking about it, whether it's about his mom, his future, or Seijoh burning down. He learns how Oikawa's weight feels in his arms, how his tears feel on his skin.
</p><p>
 (Oikawa learns too. He learns all the same thing Iwaizumi does.)
</p><p>
He learns what Oikawa looks like dead on his feet with his guard still up, unwilling to stop and rest. He learns when and how to push Oikawa past his limits, and when and how to drag him to rest. He learns the feeling of his thick hair between his fingers, learns a million complicated ways to do a lady's hair and applies it to Oikawa's. He learns how Oikawa looks spinning in euphoria, his hair swirling around him and coming undone.
</p><p>
 He learns how Oikawa looks, sleepy in the early dawn light, sweating and exhausted in the harsh afternoon sun, gentle and warm in the golden sunset, ethereal in the moonlight. He memorizes his laugh. He traces the lines of his body, the arc of his smile. He inscribes <em>Oikawa</em> into his heart. Iwaizumi would know him blind.
</p><p>
He watches Oikawa improve. He watches Oikawa launch his spear, fly across the earth, and catch it before it lands. He feels his heart in his throat.
</p><p>
He knows that Oikawa is going to be the next Achilles. He learns that he's in love with Oikawa Tooru.
</p><p>
And, as the moon rises over the peaceful beach, as the waves lap against their feet dangling off the edge of the dock, as Oikawa turns to him, skin lit silver in the moonlight with his hair fluttering in Iwaizumi's handiwork, as Oikawa smiles nervously, Iwaizumi lets his eyes soften at the smile. He lets Oikawa take his hand. He lets Oikawa trace his jaw with a calloused hand. He lets Oikawa kiss him under the starry sky, against a backdrop of glowing waves.
</p><p>
He learns how Oikawa’s lips feel on his, chapped and warm and soft.
</p><p>
And he learns that Oikawa, too, is in love with him.
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Ok so updates might not be often because I have exams in January OR somehow I'll finish this all before 2020 ends so idk subscribe or something because I have zero schedule<br/>Anyways i've got the last few chapters mostly done and it's just a struggle of chapter 2 and 3 so. Next update hopefully next week...?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. glory</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <em>“The cord," a familiar voice said. "Remember your lifeline, dummy!" Suddenly there was a tug in my lower back.  ― Percy Jackson and the Last Olympian, Rick Riordan</em>
</p><p>The Achilles Tournament, meeting Kuroo, and then some.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The tournament is in less than a year.</p><p>Oikawa is practically thrumming with pent up energy, hours spent in the training field even after dark. More than once, Iwaizumi has had to lie flat on Oikawa to stop him from working out in their room at night. More than once, Iwaizumi has woken up in the middle of the night to see Oikawa, lit silver by the moon, running through his stances on the field. More than once, he's had to gently lead a sleepwalking Oikawa back to their room and fall back asleep wrapped around him. More than once, he's had to wake to an empty room at dawn, fallen asleep to an empty room in the dark, woken up with an exhausted Oikawa in his arms.</p><p>Sometimes, he wakes up. Sometimes, Oikawa wakes him. Either way, sometimes, they end up on the beach, toes digging into the warm sand, soft conversations and gentle touches, things too delicate to be said in the harsh light of day. Those are the best nights, because Oikawa finally takes a break, but also the worst nights, because every time, Iwaizumi's heart hurts for how much pain and stress Oikawa is in. Sometimes, he sees how Oikawa grits his teeth as he twists just a little too much, and he has to grit his teeth against his own worry to prevent himself from marching out and dragging him off.</p><p>They don't see each other as much as they'd like to.</p><p>Oikawa trains, all day, every day. He's going to be the next Achilles. He's got what it takes. He's got the drive, the anger, the pure spite and pride from his loss. His skill with a spear is unparalleled, his skill with a sword almost legendary. He's the fastest in the kingdom, the boldest of their age. Even with a day packed full of training, somehow he squeezes in the time to play the lute, to learn to dance, to study strategy and history and politics. He's almost there.</p><p>Iwaizumi learns. He still trains, but not as much as Oikawa. He doubts anyone trains as much as Oikawa does. Instead, he spars with Oikawa, spars with his tutors, exercises and practices his archery, his horse-riding, his strategy. The rest of his day, he spends at the apothecary, at the healer's house. He's seen firsthand how an injury can fell a warrior, can almost destroy someone's dreams. Oikawa uses his hands to destroy to protect, but Iwaizumi is going to use his to fix things, to heal, to soothe.</p><p>They wake up together sometimes, but that's not very often anymore. They go on their morning run. Sometimes, Iwaizumi lets Oikawa sleep in a little longer, his heart aching at the dark bags under his eyes. Most times, it's the lesser evil to have him keep up his steady training schedule, to be a little selfish and a little selfless and spend time with him under the guise of training.</p><p>Iwaizumi doesn't blame him. <em>Can't</em> blame him. It's <em>Oikawa</em>, who's struggled for this his whole life, who shines so brightly that Iwaizumi can't help but stare, Oikawa who has hordes of followers without even trying, Oikawa his friend, his companion, his lover. Oikawa, who is tired but stubborn, fierce but protective, careful with others and too careless with himself.</p><p>So he grits his teeth, he grits his teeth against his emotions and his anger and he does what he does best. He's the quiet base to the shooting star that is Oikawa Tooru, the boy who makes wishes come true. He's the steady rock Oikawa can cling to amidst the waves of life. Iwaizumi Hajime grits his teeth against the ache in his heart and does the thing he does best, the thing he's been doing so long he can't remember how to not do: be Oikawa's <em>philtatos</em>.</p><p>===</p><p>Oikawa turns 19. His birthday marks the start of summer, the choosing of the champions. No one is surprised when Oikawa is chosen for Aoba Johsai.</p><p>After the announcement, Iwaizumi wrenches the sword out of his hand, drags him to the beach in silence. Somehow, it's worse than the kicking and screaming. They sit in the silence,</p><p>Iwaizumi breaks first. "Happy birthday, Tooru."</p><p>(He swallows down the sharp whisper of <em>I remembered yours, even if you didn't remember mine.</em> There's no use in being selfish now.)</p><p>Oikawa grins at him, dark bags under his eyes, exhaustion dragging at the bright edges of his smile. "Thanks, Iwa-chan."</p><p>He presses a gentle kiss to his cheek. "You need to be kinder to yourself."</p><p>Oikawa stiffens and turns away. "I need to beat Ushijima. I need to be the Achilles. I need to train past my limits, I need to fly close to the sun and go past that."</p><p>Iwaizumi jabs him in the shoulder. "You need to stop making me worry. Stop making your mother worry. Your strength isn't just in your limbs, it's also in the people around you. You're going to beat Ushijima on your own merit, but you've already gotten this far. Trust in yourself. Trust in the people around you."</p><p>Oikawa deflates, slumping against him. "Iwa-chan, I'm so tired."</p><p>"Take a break." Iwaizumi stands up, offering a hand to Oikawa. "Come and relax a while with me, Tooru, while we're still young. Forget about it for just one day."</p><p>"I can't. I can't risk losing."</p><p>"C'mon, Tooru." Iwaizumi's hair glints brown in the sun, a warm invitation in his green eyes. "Come with me. Forget your duties, your expectations. Let's have fun, just for today."</p><p>Oikawa takes his hand.</p><p> </p><p>The closer they draw to the actual Tournament, the more Iwaizumi is scared of and scared for Oikawa. Oikawa swings wildly between a hundred miles per hour, bright smiles and outrageous flirtations and hours spent in the sun, and becoming the embodiment of steel, sharp and deadly and silent, days spent in the field. He's grown into the man Iwaizumi saw a flash of on that summer day, tall and lean and gleaming gold, a man that armies would fall for. He's grown out of his awkwardness, his bluntness, grown into his long limbs and brown hair and graceful smile.</p><p>They've grown around each other, into each other, like a pair of trees growing, interlocking. Inseparable. Still as in harmony as that day years and years ago, when they fought together.</p><p>Oikawa keeps growing, keeps improving. Iwaizumi stops worrying for him and focuses his worry on himself, on his healing exams and his sparring practice. Slowly, they both grow into experts in their field. Two almost-titans, almost full-grown, almost ready.</p><p>The day dawns bright. Trumpets sound, and people line the streets as they set off, <em>finally,</em> for Edo, where the tournament is held.</p><p>===</p><p>It's a lovely day. The sky is blue, the sun is shining, birds are chirping, and they're both in a good mood when they wake up. It's the perfect day for running along the shore, tracing the water with their path. Edo is inland, so they settle for a walk along the river that runs the length of the city.</p><p>"Hey, kid, watch where you're going!" Iwaizumi's reflexes are sharp and he hooks an arm around the red hooded reader, yanking them back as their foot steps on air over the river bank. "You're going to fall into the river."</p><p>The hood falls off as he twists around, revealing a head full of badly dyed blonde hair and a grumpy expression. "Not a kid. I'm trying to decode the old prophecies for death rites!"</p><p>"For what now?"</p><p>"Are you thick?" The blonde scowls. "Death rites. I have to beat that asshole Daishou on the test, so shut up and let me study."</p><p>Oikawa towers over him, raising an eyebrow. "Who even are you? Are you lost?"</p><p>"He's Little Red and I'm his Big Bad Wolf, innit? Gods damn it, Kenma, stop wandering off." A drawl sounds from behind them. Kenma whips around, an expression of relief on his face.</p><p>"Kuroo. Where the hell did you go?"</p><p>'Kuroo' hands him a greasy paper bag. "I stopped for a moment to buy us donuts and when I looked up, you had wandered off with your nose in a book. Honestly, it's a good thing that our colors are so bright and easy to see." It's true, Kenma's red cape and Kuroo's red jacket stands out against the green and white tunics Iwaizumi and Oikawa wear. Kenma unwraps it with a slight frown, but he can't help his pleased grin as he bites into it, nor when Kuroo ruffles his hair fondly.</p><p>"So who's the dashing hero who saved you and your precious scrolls from an impromptu swim, mmm?" He runs a hand through his dark hair, mussing it up further. "What's your name, you with the nice arms?"</p><p>Oikawa slides in front of him smoothly with a charming smile. "That's Iwaizumi, and I'm Oikawa. Oikawa Tooru."</p><p>"Oho?" Kuroo's gaze slides between the two of them. "You're certainly possessive of him."</p><p>Iwaizumi elbows Oikawa. "Cut the crap, shithead. He's not even my type. Besides, I'm not going to run off with a stranger." At the same time, Kenma yanks at Kuroo's jacket sleeve and says, "Kuroo, stop flirting with other people's partners. It's rude."</p><p>Kuroo winces and rubs the back of his neck, sharp smirks replaced by a sheepish smile. "My apologies. I was simply poking fun. Allow me to make up for it by taking you two on a tour? I'm assuming you two are visiting for the tournament?"</p><p>"Yes," Oikawa says, staring down his nose at Kuroo. "I'll be putting a play for Achilles, representing Aoba Johsai. You?"</p><p>"Oh no, Kenma and I both live here. We grew up across each other. He's Athene's conduit, while I'd just rather not risk myself for glory when I've already got a good path ahead of me."</p><p>Iwaizumi frowns. "Sorry, you haven't introduced yourself yet?"</p><p>"Of course!" Kuroo's grin is wild and promises calculated chaos and fun. "Kuroo Tetsurou, Heir to the Nekoma throne. Pleasure to make your acquaintance."</p><p>Oikawa looks at his grin and his own lips curve to match. "Kuroo Tetsurou, I think we're going to be excellent friends."</p><p> </p><p>Kuroo takes them on a tour of Edo. It's as chaotic as one might imagine, somehow involving three stray cats, two near misses, five scoldings from Iwaizumi and Kenma, a broom, and a run from the police. Somehow, they find themselves in the Edo general training field, armouring up. Iwaizumi tests the sword in his hand, checking how it balances. The edges are slightly blunted, the hilt leather fraying slightly. It's not as perfect for him as his brother's, as his family sword, sitting in their room, but it'll do. Beside him, Oikawa picks up a javelin, flashes a grin at Kuroo, and winds up and hurls it across the field. It sinks hilt deep into the red center of the target on the other end of the field.</p><p>Kuroo drops his jaw and his sword.</p><p>Oikawa takes a deep breath, running his hands through his hair, and picks up a sword. "Wanna spar?"</p><p>Iwaizumi undoes the leather string wrapped around his bicep and moves over to Oikawa. "Sit down, asshole, or do you want to tangle your hair?"</p><p>"Mean, Iwa-chan," he pouts, slinking over and sitting on the bench. Iwaizumi hums noncommittally and cards his fingers through his hair, separating it into three neat sections and weaving them into a neat braid. Kuroo eyes them with interest, his gaze darting momentarily over to Kenma, who sits on a gym vault with a scroll open in front of him, his shoulder length hair falling over his eyes.  Iwaizumi catches his eye and mouths, <em>I'll teach you later</em> with a grin, and watches as Kuroo flushes pink and tries not to beam back at him.</p><p>Neatly, he ties off the long braid and knees him in the back. "There, princess. Done." Oikawa runs his hand over the braid and grins. "Thanks, Iwa-chan! Now, Kuroo-kun, let's spar!"</p><p>Kuroo whistles lowly, pulling a pair of twin daggers from the rack on the wall. He flips one, spinning the other between his fingers. "Hmm, not as good as my own, but these will do. Shall we?"</p><p>Iwaizumi nods, feeling the rush of adrenaline filling his bones.</p><p>"<em>Kyanma,</em> stop reading and come play with us!" There's a braided leather whip in Kuroo's hand, woven through with glinting gold. Not practice equipment then, specialised and personalised.</p><p>Kenma scowls. "Do I have to?" At Kuroo's nod, he sets down his book with a sigh, trudging across the yard to grab the whip from his outstretched hand. Clamping it between his teeth, he pulls his hair back with a pair of clips. Oikawa watches how Kuroo's pupils dilate at the sight and stifles a giggle, elbowing Iwaizumi. He narrows his eyes at him, elbowing right back.</p><p>They make their way onto a free court, stretching as they go. Kenma slouches, running the whip through his hands. "Kuroo, you know I have to study for this."</p><p>"Say, Kenma, you never really introduced yourself properly. What're you studying for?"</p><p>"Kozume Kenma. I'm one of Athene's acolytes, and I'll be the conduit someday. I have to <em>study</em> because I have to remember the rites to perform for the Achilles ceremony, since I'll be performing them, but this <em>rooster</em> won't let me."</p><p>Kuroo cackles and ruffles his hair. "A little fighting will do you good, Kodzuken. You're too stagnant, your bones will melt together."</p><p>"Two on two then?" Iwaizumi grips his sword tighter. A lifetime of being a younger brother and sparring partner to two skilled warriors, both of whom are tricksters and also very enthusiastic, has put him on edge quite possibly for life. Kuroo nods, flipping his twin blades again.</p><p>"Why dual knives?"</p><p>"Ah, it's a family tradition. Hunting knives, or daggers, or something small and concealable. Nekoma is about connection and strategy, and it's harder to be seen as diplomatic when wielding a huge thonking sword." Kuroo catches the daggers again, and Iwaizumi swallows a laugh. Small and concealable. The two knives' blades are each the length of his forearm. Smaller than his sword, yes, but not that small.</p><p>Kuroo flips the knives again, and as the knives spin in midair, the four step into the court. He snatches them out of midair instantaneously, whirling and stabbing at Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi's sword is already up, and metal clangs loudly. Kuroo's eyes widen with glee. "Oho! Fast reflexes, I see."</p><p>Iwaizumi grins, sharp and angry. "When you train with Oikawa Tooru, you get used to having to be on guard as soon as you step into the ring." He braces his sword against Kuroo's knives, brought up in an X, and his leg darts out in a kick. Before it can get very far, it's caught by a whip. Iwaizumi turns to face Kenma, who slowly advances, his leg trapped in his weapon. Almost disinterestedly, Kenma unsheathes a knife from his thigh, and flips it between his fingers casually. Iwaizumi feels himself being tugged towards the blonde.</p><p>"Iwa-chan, go!" Oikawa lunges at Kuroo, sword outstretched. Kuroo grimaces, twisting out from under Iwaizumi's sword to block Oikawa's. Their blades move in a flurry, a storm of metal and skin. Iwaizumi takes advantage of the momentary distraction and untangles himself from the whip, leaping to meet Kenma's dagger. Kenma's eyes glint with interest and he moves, almost too fast to see, suddenly at the back of him. Iwaizumi twists, ducking under his guard. Kenma twists away, the whip lashing out. Behind him, a grunt as Oikawa falls to the ground.</p><p>Iwaizumi huffs a laugh. "Not bad, acolyte Kozume." He flicks his sword at the whip, stopping at the last minute. The dull practice blade won't cut through leather, and a personalised whip like that is too beautiful to destroy.</p><p>The corner of his lips twitch. "Please, just Kenma."</p><p>Iwaizumi lunges at him, parrying his knife, and tackles him to the ground. "Alright, <em>Kenma</em>. Yield."</p><p>He wrests the whip away from his hand, pinning him down with a knee. Kuroo looks over, ducking away from Oikawa's thrust. "Kenma! Look how out of practice you are!" Oikawa's sword twists, and his knives fly out of his hands. He looks back in shock. "Damn, future Achilles. Not bad."</p><p>Oikawa grins, puffing a stray hair out of his face. "I try."</p><p> </p><p>As they walk back towards the hall, they pass a range. A tall lean boy with eyes of blue and hair of ebony glares as he paces, shooting arrow after arrow into the dead center of the row of targets.</p><p>Oikawa stops. "Who's that?"</p><p>"Kageyama Tobio. Best archer the country has seen. Honestly, he's just a genius with ranged weapons. His accuracy is out of this world. That's why I was so shocked when you threw the spear, I thought Kageyama was the only one who could aim and throw like that."</p><p>His smile tightens. "So he's a spear thrower? Is he going for Achilles?"</p><p>Kuroo chuckles, slinging an arm over his shoulder. "Oikawa, he's too young. He's three years younger than you are. Besides, he's nowhere near good at you just yet. Not at hand to hand, and certainly not at people. He's just insanely accurate."</p><p>On the range, an orange haired blur appears, catching the arrow before it reaches the target. Kageyama scowls deeply and marches over, beginning to yell at him. The orange haired boy scowls back and gestures wildly, pulling out a belt of throwing stars and throwing knives. Kageyama pinches his brow and groans loudly, which the other boy takes as a signal for him to stay. He breaks out in a grin and launches a throwing star, where it splits an arrow and lodges there. The second one lands on the edge of the target, and both boys groan loudly.</p><p>Kenma smiles fondly. "That's Hinata Shouyou, his brother in arms. Ninja Shouyou, because he's faster than a demon and as silent as one when he wants to be. His skills are a bit... wild card. He's either pinpoint and deadly or he just falls out of the ring."</p><p>Iwaizumi nudges Oikawa. "Look, they're just as annoying as you are."</p><p>Oikawa's affronted gasp is drowned out by Kuroo's cackling. "Iwa-chan, that's so mean!" He shoves him, pouting. "Buy me food to make up for it!"</p><p>Kenma laughs lightly. "Let's have ramen, there's a good shop down the road."</p><p>"Okay! Iwa-chan, you're paying."</p><p>"Gods <em>damn,</em> Crappykawa, you're so spoiled."</p><p>===</p><p>"Oikawa Tooru!" Kuroo leans over the side of his box, hands cupped around his mouth. Kenma sighs and grabs the back of his shirt, in case he falls. "Oikawa!!"</p><p>Oikawa looks up from where he stands on the field, hair pinned into a bun, Iwaizumi fussing over his armour for one last time.</p><p>Kuroo grins, waving his arms wildly. "Good luck!"</p><p>He grins back, flashing a thumbs up. Iwaizumi scowls and hands him his sword before wrapping him in a hug. He whispers something that makes Oikawa blush pink and soften, before kissing him on the cheek and stepping away.</p><p>
  <em>Good luck.</em>
</p><p>In the end, he doesn't need it. He burns through his opponents like a hot knife through butter.</p><p>On the opposite court, Ushijima does the same.</p><p> </p><p>He makes it to the finals.</p><p>He's facing off Ushijima Wakatoshi in the match of his life in half an hour. Oikawa runs his hands harshly through his already-tangled hair, mussing it up. Strands of it fall everywhere, framing his vision with brown. He paces in the tent, armor discarded and half dressed, tension in every line.</p><p>Iwaizumi always braids his hair before tournaments. Iwaizumi is always the last to see him before he goes to fight. Iwaizumi is nowhere to be seen.</p><p>An attendant walks in. He opens his mouth, presumably to remind him of the time, sees the expression on his face and the state of him in general, and promptly closes his mouth and walks right back out. Oikawa hunches into himself and keeps pacing.</p><p>Familiar footsteps sound down the hallway. Without looking, Oikawa can tell the exact moment Iwaizumi steps into the doorway.</p><p>"Iwa-chan," Oikawa calls, his back to the door, his hands clenched into fists. "Are you going to do my hair?"</p><p>Iwaizumi gently takes his arm and leads him to a chair. "Sit. You're too tense, how are you going to fight like that? Here-" he hands Oikawa some water and begins massaging his shoulders, "- relax. You need to."</p><p>Slowly, the tension leaks from his back and neck. Iwaizumi smiles. "There, dumbass. Did you think I wasn't coming? Now put on your armor before I do your hair."</p><p>Oikawa obediently fastens his lightweight chestplate as Iwaizumi sets out a bundle of things on the bench. He looks over, curious, but Iwaizumi ignores him, methodically slipping on leather gloves and laying out an assortment of salves and combs instead.</p><p>"What's all the fuss?"</p><p>Iwaizumi looks up. "Today is a very special day. Come. Sit."</p><p>As Iwaizumi takes his thick chocolate tresses and starts combing, Oikawa tries to steady his breathing. He's not nervous, just jittery with anticipation. Finally, after so much more training, he's facing off with Ushijima again. And this time, the time where it counts, he's going to win.</p><p>"So, remember the time you fought him and lost?"</p><p>Oikawa scowls, jolted out of his reverie. "Don't remind me. That asshole fought dirty. Going after my <em>hair,</em> how rude! I can't believe he did that."</p><p>"Mhmm," Iwaizumi hums noncommittally as he applies a cool salve to the back of Oikawa's neck before tucking a high leather back into his armor to cover it. "Here, drink this."</p><p>Oikawa takes the small vial of brown with a frown. "Iwa-chan, what's this?"</p><p>"You're allowed to bring your own weapons and wear your own armor, right?" Iwaizumi fiddles with a strand of hair, pinning it and tucking something into it. "Well, it's an antidote. Drink it."</p><p>Oikawa willingly gulps it down before- "Wait. An antidote?"</p><p>Iwaizumi bites his lip. "He's ambidextrous, which means he can't have a glove on either hand, right? For sword grip. If he fights dirty again, he's in for a surprise."</p><p>"A surprise?"</p><p>He smiles guiltily. "I may have braided poison spikes into your hair. Kenma may have helped in coming up with the idea, and also with acquiring the poison."</p><p>Oikawa gasps with delight, "Iwa-chan, would it not have been simpler to just put my hair in an updo?"</p><p>"Well. I wanted him to fall to his own pride. He deserves it." His braid is tied off, a brush of lips on his forehead. "Now go out there and win this tournament, Oikawa. I believe in you. "</p><p>===</p><p>The crowd's cheers almost drown out the pounding in his ears. Across the colosseum court, Ushijima stands, sword in hand, his purple cloak billowing out behind him.</p><p>Oikawa grits his teeth, tightening the grip on his spear. <em>Self-righteous bastard. Purple may be the Shiratorizawan colour, but it's also a royal colour, and you're not king yet. Besides, where is the wind for your cloak coming from?</em></p><p>"Oikawa Tooru."</p><p>"Ushiwaka. Are you ready to lose?"</p><p>"You haven't changed at all." Ushijima's eyes remain stony and unreadable as he unfastens his cloak, tossing it to the side. "I'm going to win here today, like I did the last time. I'm going to be the Achilles, the best of the best."</p><p>His eyes narrow. "Less talking. Let's go."</p><p>Ushijima is like a force of nature, a landslide or a tsunami, rushing at him with unstoppable force. Oikawa narrowly ducks the thrust, twisting to the side and jabbing with his spear. Ushijima whirls away, parrying. "Spears are good for long distance, but not for close combat." Knocking aside the tip, he rushes in, sword braced in front of him.</p><p>Oikawa grins. "Oh? Ushiwaka, you have no idea what's possible." As Ushijima's sword flies towards him, he bends over backwards, pulling the spear towards himself. He twirls it in his hands, a blur of brown and silver. Turning it so the point faces down, he thrusts up with the blunt end, catching Ushijima squarely on the chin. As he staggers backwards, Oikawa follows in pursuit, forcing him to duck and parry. Neither of them leave an opening for attack.</p><p>Oikawa stabs his spear through his tunic, pinning him into the wall, and braces one leg against his arm on the wall, freezing him and forcing him to drop his weapon simultaneously. Ushijima frowns, grabbing onto the spear with his free hand, bracing himself, and <em>kicks</em> with both legs against Oikawa's stomach, sending him flying across the court, spear left in Ushijima's hands. He coughs, forcing himself to his feet and lunging for the dropped swords.</p><p>Effectively having swapped weapons, they circle each other tentatively. While Ushijima is almost godly on the battlefield, magic with a sword, he hasn't trained as much with a spear, while Oikawa still has a decent grasp of sword fighting, as well as an intimate knowledge of the reach and weaknesses of his weapon. He hoists the heavy blade, internally complaining at the overly weighted balance. He moves first, lashing out at Ushijima. Ushijima has no qualms about using the spear shaft to block, and Oikawa has to stop himself from cleaving his own weapon in half. Instead, he presses down on the wood with the flat of the blade, forcing him to brace the spear with both hands. Ushijima sweeps out a leg, the kick landing on Oikawa's ribs, and he staggers back.</p><p>Ushijima presses on, parrying his weak lunges with the too-heavy blade. Custom forged for him, it's just too off balance and too heavy for anyone to use, and Oikawa is clearly struggling. Oikawa lurches at him, blade outstretched, and Ushijima swings the spear, the wooden shaft smashing into the same spot he had kicked. Oikawa gasps and falters, and he wastes no time in sweeping his legs out from under him, straddling him. He stabs the spear to the side of Oikawa's head.</p><p>"Yield."</p><p>Oikawa grins at him, unhinged. "You wish." His hands wrap around the spear shaft and he yanks. Ushijima scrambles backwards to avoid being slashed in the face, snatching up his sword as he goes.</p><p>"You're getting sloppy. Sloppier than usual." Ushijima blocks the spear sweep casually and stabs at him.</p><p>Oikawa barely sidesteps it, eyes narrowed. "Decided to start the mental games, I see."</p><p>He shrugs, stepping closer. "I am merely telling the truth, Oikawa. You're not worthy of the spot of Achilles."</p><p>"And you think you are?" Oikawa whirls backwards, twisting and attempting to roundhouse him. "You don't have the compassion."</p><p>"Compassion is worthless without skill." Ushijima blocks the kick with his arm, continuing his advance. "How will you help people without skill? You may be well liked and well intentioned, but you're weak and arrogant."</p><p>"Shut up." Oikawa's eyes harden as he swings his spear.</p><p>"Weak, arrogant, unskilled." Ushijima swings his sword in a wide arc. "Even the young Kageyama from Karasuno is more qualified than you. He's all rounded, and just as skilled with ranged weapons. Without your spear-"</p><p>"SHUT UP!" Oikawa roars, lunging at him. Ushijima's eyes go wide and he slashes. There is a loud crack as his spear splits in half. Oikawa staggers backwards in shock.</p><p>"You're nothing," he finishes, looking at Oikawa down the length of his blade. "You're replaceable."</p><p>"Ushijima, shut the <em>fuck</em> up!" Oikawa lunges at him with half a broken spear in each hand, eyes burning with rage. "You know <em>nothing,</em> you piece of shit!"</p><p>Ushijima's eyes flash and he knocks aside the jagged wood with his sword. He blocks Oikawa's punches, his roundhouse kick, and then-</p><p>And then, with his free hand, he seizes Oikawa's braid and <em>yanks</em>, a leg darting out for his knee, and they both scream.</p><p>Oikawa collapses to the ground, clutching his knee. Ushijima staggers a few steps away, sword forgotten, right hand clutching the left. It's bleeding black blood from tiny punctures all over, and he glares back at Oikawa with eyes of hate.</p><p>Oikawa looks up at him and chokes out a laugh. "I do learn. And I have people around me, to support me, to help me go higher. How's the hand, you dirty fighting fucker?"</p><p>His eyes darken. "Dirty tactics."</p><p>"Heh. You started it. That's poison, by the way. A precaution. Better finish this quickly." </p><p>"Fine." Before either of them can blink, Ushijima has his hand full of throwing knives and he hurls them at Oikawa. Oikawa ducks, sliding under them towards him. Ushijima throws them again, and again, and glinting steel embeds itself into the walls of the stadium. Oikawa runs towards him, snatching up the fragments of his weapon as he does. He hurls one of them at him, and as he ducks away, he stabs his left arm with the spearhead, sinking it up into the shaft.</p><p>"How's the arm?" Oikawa calls tauntingly. "The paralysis kicking in yet?"</p><p>Ushijima hurls the rest of his throwing knives desperately. Oikawa ducks to avoid them, but he instinctively tracks their trajectory: Towards the spectator stands.</p><p>Before he knows what he's doing, before a conscious thought forms, his body is reacting, leaping into a spinning kick, straight into the path of the missiles.</p><p>The knives embed themselves into his right leg, a line from his knee to his calf, and he lands heavily with a bitten back scream. Ushijima swings his sword wildly, and it cracks into his knee, felling him with another scream. Oikawa heaves on the ground.</p><p>"Yield."</p><p>He glares up at him. "Never." His good leg flashes out, and catches him in the groin. Ushijima chokes back a groan, stumbling backwards. Taking the chance, he forces himself to his feet, swinging his broken weapon wildly.</p><p>Ushijima blocks him with a sword. "How? You're injured. Yield. Let yourself be defeated and your injuries treated. What's the point of continuing to struggle?"</p><p>Oikawa gasps for air, forcing a grin to his lips. "You forget, Ushiwaka. Being the Achilles isn't just about fighting, isn't just about glory. It's about protecting the people, removing their suffering. It's about kindness, about honour. I may be prideful, but I am willing to lay down my pride and my life before letting an innocent come to harm. Are you?"</p><p>The spear smashes into his arm with a sickening crack. Ushijima falls to his knees with a voiceless scream.</p><p>Oikawa stands over him, haloed by the sun. "Do you yield?"</p><p>He tries to stand on unmoving legs. He looks at his shattered arm, tendrils of the bright pink of blood poisoning creeping up from his hand. He looks at Oikawa, leaning heavily on the remains of his spear, panting and half-fainting and still standing on the remains of his shattered knee, still ready to keep fighting.</p><p>He nods.</p><p>Oikawa stands over his kneeling form, hearing the crowd break into screams like never before, and raises his jagged spear in victory.</p><p>His honey-brown eyes find Iwaizumi's green. Iwaizumi breaks into an ear-splitting grin, clapping and cheering louder than anyone, and Oikawa feels warmth spread from the tips of his ears down to his toes.</p><p>===</p><p>Thunder rumbles across the clear sky.</p><p>The gods are deliberating.</p><p><em>What do you want, Achilles?</em> Both of them were asked this question, High Priestess Kiyoko's eyes glinting with curiosity.</p><p>Ushijima's eyes had cooled into steel. "I want power and strength, to protect my people and defeat my enemies."</p><p>Oikawa's eyes had ignited. "I want the people I love to stay safe. I want innocents to stay out of danger. I want Iwa-chan to stay by my side forever." He had then tilted his head to the side, one finger on his lip. "I also want my hair to go back to being bronze."</p><p>Power versus strength versus compassion versus love. Versus pride and skill and vanity. Both of them are worthy, results of the final battle aside. Both of them would make a great Achilles. The battle was merely to exhibit the champions' prowess, to prove to the world their ability. The final decision is up to the gods.</p><p>(Of course, the last time the winner wasn't crowned Achilles was centuries ago. )</p><p>Ultimately, Oikawa is chosen for one reason, a reason that none but the gods know.</p><p>Achilles is a champion of his people. To be Achilles is to embody the Greeks. Ushijima Wakatoshi understands strength and power, but Oikawa Tooru understands people. Achilles is almost a god, a direct line of divinity to champion the Greeks. But divinity burns through a man. Achilles needs a Patroclus, a link to remind him he’s human, that he’s just mortal enough. Someone to stop him from wreaking havoc, from destroying the world, from burning himself from the inside out. And Ushijima Wakatoshi, focused as he was on his skill, had never found a suitable Patroclus.</p><p>Oikawa had Iwaizumi.</p><p>"Oikawa Tooru. Come. The gods are waiting for you."</p><p>===</p><p>Kenma's eyes are wide and sharp as he leads Oikawa through the dark tunnels to the temple, Gods’ Abode. "Congratulations, Oikawa-san."</p><p>Oikawa looks at the body of water in front of him. It glints, inky black, somehow reflective and light absorbing at the same time. "So this is it?"</p><p>Kenma nods. "The River Styx, brought up to us mortals. The water is the same, the powers are the same, but the lack of movement in the water lessens the 'strip away your soul' effect the actual river has. It's going to heal all your wounds and flesh weaknesses except the spot you pick as your weak spot. It’ll make you invincible."</p><p>Oikawa exhales with a whoosh of air. "So this is it." A decade of effort, consolidated into a swim. And then he'll be the Achilles.</p><p>Kenma's eyes are almost warm as he helps Oikawa undress. "It's going to be fine. A word of advice, Achilles. When you enter the River Styx, remember what keeps you human. Don't let the divinity burn you away."</p><p>Oikawa nods jerkily, and with barely a splash, he slips into the river.</p><p> </p><p>Oikawa isn't naturally talented. He's fought tooth and claw for everything he has, and he's ripped his way to the top, grabbed with both hands onto the opportunity the gods didn't give him. He's fought for the title of Gods' Favoured, and the waters of the River Styx closing over his head was the sweetest feeling in the world.</p><p>Of course, it hurt like hell. But what kind of naïve fool thought that being unmade and reforged stronger didn't burn its way through your soul?</p><p>There was a certain poetic irony to choosing the back of his knee as his weak spot. The knee which he had injured in a match when he was younger, the knee he had wrecked again in the tournament, the knee injury that was no secret, probably the worst and most exploitable part to choose.</p><p>But. <em>When you enter the River Styx, remember what keeps you human.</em> And he sees Iwaizumi's spiky hair damp with seawater, their footprints in the sand as they race along the shore. Iwaizumi's arms straining as he blocks his sword, his laugh as Oikawa trips over a tree root. Iwaizumi's scowl and olive-green eyes, and Iwaizumi's fingers in his hair as they kiss on the rooftop.</p><p><em>"Shittykawa, you dumbass, take better care of yourself."</em> Iwaizumi's eyes filled with concern as he sets and splints Oikawa's leg.</p><p>Oikawa bursts out of the River gasping for air, water evaporating off his skin into hissing steam. His legs give out and he falls to his knees, panting. <em>Breathe, Tooru. That's it, inhale, exhale, repeat.</em></p><p>When he stands once more, he is no longer just Oikawa. He is Oikawa Tooru, the Achilles, gifted by the gods. Invulnerable, undefeatable, the best of men. His hand closes around the shaft of a spear, forged from Stygian metal and plated with gold. The chill of the spear echoes the chill in his bones.</p><p>He raises the spear, triumphant, and lightning arcs across the sky.</p><p>The Achilles is crowned.</p><p>Every warrior has no concept of death. Every warrior thinks they're invincible. They're all a little too young and a little too immortal, Oikawa more than most, but the thing that keeps him human is Iwaizumi. His <em>philtatos. Most beloved.</em></p><p>And with Iwaizumi at his side, they're unstoppable.</p><p>===</p><p>Messengers are sent out across the land, bearing the new Achilles' name. Oikawa is crowned Champion, <em>Achilles,</em> in Edo, Kuroo smirking at him from his throne as his father places golden laurels on Oikawa's head. Iwaizumi's eyes are warm as he watches Oikawa stand on the podium, and his lips are warm as they kiss frantically in their room after the celebrations.</p><p>Ushijima Wakatoshi is made General of the Greeks, his arm still in a sling as he accepts the helmet. He leaves without even looking at Oikawa.</p><p>The rest of the attendees swear their loyalty to the General, to the Achilles. If there's a war, all the participants will be fighting.</p><p>Oikawa smiles from where he sits in the bleachers with Iwaizumi's arm round his waist. He's done it. He's gotten everything he's wanted.</p><p> </p><p>"Oikawa-san?" Oikawa stops in his tracks at the barely-familiar voice. Iwaizumi turns around with a look of concern. Slowly, Oikawa turns on his heel to meet a familiar pair of ice blue eyes. He stiffens.</p><p>Kageyama Tobio stands in front of him, dark hair fluttering in the wind. He bows. "I was watching you in the tournament, and your spear-throwing skills, as well as your hand-to-hand skills, especially your quick adapting, impressed me greatly. I was wondering if you could take a minute to spar with me and teach me your ways?"</p><p>A muscle jumps in Oikawa's jaw. "You're asking me to teach you."</p><p>Kageyama nods, looking almost shy. "Your skill impressed me greatly."</p><p>"Wait, Oikawa-" Iwaizumi says, reaching out his hand out. Oikawa ducks away.</p><p>"First lesson," he says, smile sharp enough to cut, "always keep your guard up." He lunges forward, catching Kageyama's shoulder with his fist. Kageyama staggers backwards, eyes going wide. Recovering quickly, he twists and lands a kick on Oikawa's torso. Immediately, he recoils, a dark bruise blossoming over his shin. Oikawa's ribs remain untouched by virtue of the Achilles blessing. He follows up with a punch to his nose, making contact with no effect. Oikawa's brow raises and he throws a flurry of punches, backing Kageyama into a corner. Kageyama narrowly avoids them and sweeps a kick towards his right knee.</p><p>Oikawa's hair glows bronze. "Not bad, kid. Not bad at all." His teeth are too sharp when he smiles, his skin glowing with something a little more than just the afternoon sun. "<em>But you'll have to be better than that to replace me-</em>"</p><p>Kageyama's eyes grow wide with fear as Oikawa <em>leaps</em>, almost flying, coiling up in a spinning kick. In a dead end, Kageyama has nowhere to escape to.</p><p>Iwaizumi grabs Oikawa by the collar in mid-air, sending him crashing to the ground. "Are you out of your fucking mind?"</p><p>Kageyama backs away quickly, running as soon as he can. Damn. They'll have to send a letter later. Oikawa whirls on Iwaizumi in a fury. "What the fuck?" He spins, kicking him.</p><p>Iwaizumi blocks the kick with his arm. "Oikawa, you were going to kill him!"</p><p>"Good," Oikawa says, eyes glowing faintly. "Then there wouldn't be anyone to replace me."</p><p>"What-" Iwaizumi dodges his fist. "Are you out of your mind? Oikawa, are you seriously using your full divine blessing in this childish scuffle?"</p><p>"<em>Move</em>, Iwa-chan." Oikawa's voice is dangerously low. "Get out of the way."</p><p>Iwaizumi's fist slams into Oikawa's jawbone with a crack. Oikawa's head snaps to the side. Slowly, he brings his fingers to his face to feel a trickle of blood, the punch breaking skin.</p><p>"Are you fucking insane?" Iwaizumi stands there panting. "He's not going to replace you, he's just a <em>child!</em> I swear, if this is because of what Ushijima said-"</p><p>Oikawa suddenly looks very fragile, curled into himself, hand cupping his bruised bleeding jaw. "Was he wrong?"</p><p>"Yes." Iwaizumi closes the distance between them, his hand coming up to cover Oikawa's. "He was wrong. You <em>are</em> worthy. You're not replaceable. You've proven him wrong."</p><p>"I'm sorry, Iwa-chan," Oikawa whispers, looking down. "I… I wasn’t thinking straight."</p><p>Iwaizumi gently pulls his hand away from his jaw. "Shut up. Let me look at that." <em>You're forgiven.</em></p><p>"How did you do that?" Oikawa winces as he dabs at the cut. "I thought I was invincible. Achilles and all."</p><p>Iwaizumi shrugs. "It worked against Kageyama, right? Guess it's just me."</p><p>"That's okay." Oikawa's smile is soft and radiant as he leans in and brushes his lips against Iwaizumi's. "You're allowed to have all of me, to do anything you like to me."</p><p>"With you, I don't mind being weak."</p><p>===</p><p><em>"Look, it's him. Oikawa Tooru's friend. Patroclus."</em> The whispers follow him everywhere now, dogging his steps. Iwaizumi grits his teeth and ducks his head, striding away with bread in hand. <em>Patroclus</em>. He was Oikawa's <em>philtatos</em>, but even as the Achilles' companion, he hadn't really paid much attention to the traditions, all-too-willing to let Oikawa step into the spotlight while he stayed in the shadows, supporting him.</p><p><em>"I heard he stopped the Achilles from killing a man."</em> That almost stops Iwaizumi dead in his tracks, because it's true, he did stop Oikawa from attacking Kageyama, but how did they know that? He shakes his head and hurries on. Oikawa will burn dinner if he's left alone too long.</p><p><em>Patroclus,</em> they whisper as he passes. <em>Hello, Patroclus</em>.</p><p>"Oi, Shittykawa!" Iwaizumi slams open the door. "What the fuck is a Patroclus and why am I one?"</p><p>Oikawa's eyes widen. "Oh, <em>fuck.</em> Shit, fuck, damn. I'm sorry, Iwa-chan, I didn't think-"</p><p>Iwaizumi rolls his eyes. "Whatever. Just tell me what it is."</p><p>He worries at his lower lip. "The Patroclus is… a position similar to the Achilles? It's the companion, the one the Achilles is proclaiming as most beloved, the link between Achilles' divinity and his humanity. It's basically a blood oath, similar to the philtatos one? Patroclus is almost always <em>philtatos</em>, because that's already the official legal companion and being Patroclus is just elevating that? Into the eyes of the Gods? Even though I'm pretty sure the Gods picked you to be Patroclus."</p><p>"So it's divine summons."</p><p>"No! I mean, the Gods want it, but I didn't think we would need to, and now I'm asking you to. Me as in me, me, not Achilles me. I'm asking you, divine wishes aside."</p><p><em>Patroclus.</em> A blessing, a curse, second-best and most beloved of the champion. The link between the champion and mankind, fated to be a hero second only to one, or to die in the place of another.</p><p>Oikawa's eyes are wide and his hands tremble, clasped together. He's nervous. He thinks Iwaizumi will reject him, will choose to stay out of the spotlight. It's true, Iwaizumi didn't ask to be thrust into the world of divinity, of being known as a champion of man, but it's Oikawa asking him, not Achilles. Nervous, human Oikawa, who stays up too late and whines too much and burns dinner, Oikawa who slips into bed with him each night, Oikawa who moves with the grace of an arrow arcing through the air.</p><p>Oikawa rambles when he's nervous. "It's okay Iwa-chan, I know you don't like the spotlight very much and I sorta sprung this on you and it's fine, it's unusual but it's been done before, I can have separate <em>philtatos</em> and Patroclus-"</p><p><em>philtatos</em>. Beloved, companion, partner. Years of trust and fraternity, training together and living together and breathing together.</p><p>Before that, Oikawa Tooru. A skinny 9-year-old who dazzled like the sun, who contained a universe of potential, who Iwaizumi would have followed anywhere.</p><p>Oikawa Tooru is asking him a question.</p><p>For Iwaizumi Hajime, there never really was a 'no', was there?</p><p>He bows his head and lets Oikawa anoint him with blood.</p><p>
  <em>Sealed with a kiss.</em>
</p><p>===</p><p>Years pass. The shine wears off.</p><p>Oikawa, as Achilles, attends galas, diplomatic meetings, coronations, Iwaizumi by his side. Kuroo turns 20 and slays the Nemean Lion, and the Nekoma crown is passed onto him. Ushijima defeats the king and takes the crown of Shiratorizawa. Kenma is chosen for Conduit, the highest honour Athene's acolyte can be given, a direct link to the Goddess.</p><p>Years pass. People drift apart.</p><p>Kageyama accepts the apology, but declines their offer of dinner. Kuroo's letters come less often, caught up in court affairs. Ushijima writes to Oikawa, once, an apology for his dismissal at the awards ceremony, and Oikawa sends back a snide remark with a new sword.</p><p>Years pass. They grow up. Years pass. Oikawa grows stronger. Iwaizumi grows stronger. He beats Iwaizumi at chess again, and Iwaizumi leaves a long scar on his forearm after one ill-fated sparring match. Years pass, and they still sneak out to the beach, running in the sea spray, kissing on the cliffs, counting the stars on the sand.</p><p> </p><p>They're at the New Year's Fair, the Shogatsu celebration. It's the last day of the year, and snow drifts down around them. Oikawa's hand is warm in his as they stroll among the stalls, looking at the wares. Somehow, no one's recognised them yet.</p><p>Iwaizumi stops at a stall selling trinkets. There's a pair of pure white ribbons, fluttering in the wind from where they're displayed. He lets go of Oikawa's hand for a moment, striding over.</p><p>"How much for those ribbons?"</p><p>The stall owner winks. "For a handsome boy like yourself, three bronze pieces. They're real silk, handwoven! It's a steal."</p><p>He fishes out the coins without hesitation, handing it over to the old woman.</p><p>"Iwa-chan~ What're you doing?" Oikawa presses up against him, huffing air into his ear. "What here could possibly interest you?"</p><p>The old woman hands him the delicate white strands, sharp eyes looking with interest between the two of them. Iwaizumi can feel his face heating as she winks at him with a smile. "C'mon, Oikawa." He grabs him by the wrist and marches them over to the side of the road. </p><p>"These are for you."</p><p>"…What?"</p><p>"For your hair. When you braid it for battle. This way, it won't look <em>common</em> even when it's not glowing bronze with divine power."</p><p>Oikawa gingerly takes the ribbons from his hands, half frozen with shock. Then he throws himself at Iwaizumi, wrapping his arms around him and burying his face in the crook of his neck. He mumbles something that might have been <em>thank you</em>.</p><p>He untangles himself with a smile and suspiciously shiny eyes. "Tie it for me! I wanna keep my hair down though."</p><p>"Lean over, dickface."</p><p>With deft hands, Iwaizumi wraps the ribbon around his head like a headband, tying it off with a bow. Oikawa touches it and grins. He pecks Iwaizumi on the cheek. "Thanks!"</p><p>Iwaizumi lets himself be dragged back into the fair, a smile playing on his lips at the bright white against his coffee-dark hair.</p><p>"Iwa-chan!" Oikawa's hand is suddenly tight around his arm. "Look! Buy me mochi!"</p><p>"Ugh, Crappy Oikawa, you're going to break my wallet," Iwaizumi complains, as he forks over the money for two orders of mochi. "You're such an asshole."</p><p>"But you love me anyways~" Oikawa takes a big bite of mochi, his eyes going wide at the taste. "This is so good! How come you don't make mochi this good?"</p><p>Iwaizumi smacks his neck. "Shut up. Make it yourself then, smartass."</p><p>"Okay, sorry, sorry!" Oikawa brushes the hair out of his face and takes another bite. "Aww, this is just delicious!" Wordlessly, Iwaizumi hands his mochi over as well. Oikawa looks at him with a surprised grin, his warm fingers brushing against his as he takes it. "Why is Iwa-chan so nice today?"</p><p>The snow flutters down around them, fluffy and white. A single snowflake is caught Oikawa's lashes, melting slowly against the brown. Oikawa's nose and cheeks are flushed red from the cold, and his elegant lean lines are hidden under an oversized coat. With his hair down, the white ribbon in a bow on the top of his head, he looks younger and more vulnerable than he has in ages, and Iwaizumi's heart flutters.</p><p>He shoves Oikawa. "Shut up."</p><p>Oikawa's eyes sparkle, and Iwaizumi's heart thuds harder in his chest at how happy he is. "Oh? Iwa-chan seems embarrassed."</p><p>Iwaizumi sticks his cold hands down his neck.</p><p>While Oikawa is still busy squealing, Iwaizumi dusts the mochi flour off his cheek and kisses him, softly, sweetly, tenderly. When they break away, there are stars in Oikawa's eyes.</p><p>"What was that for?" Oikawa's voice is tinged with humour and warmth.</p><p>He shrugs. "You just looked really happy."</p><p>Oikawa squeezes his hand. Their hands swing between them as they walk, glowing with warmth and joy.</p><p>Just the two of them, just Hajime and Tooru.</p><p>It was a good day.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I JUST WANT THESE BOYS TO BE HAPPY </p><p>Fight prowess: Oikawa ~ Ushijima &gt; iwaizumi + Kuroo &gt; Kags (but only because of age inexperience) &gt; Kenma<br/># inaccurate fight scenes 2k20</p><p>new chapter,,, soon????</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. war</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <em>Everything is more beautiful because we're doomed. You will never be lovelier than you are now. We will never be here again.   ― Troy</em>
</p><p>War is here.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Oh look finally something that's accurate ish to the Achilles original story<br/>Troy story is starting! Enjoy!</p><p>Tw: mentions of rape, slavery (the greeks were awful.)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Oikawa Thetis is dying.</p><p>It's been years since she collapsed. Frankly, the doctors are surprised she's held out so long. They're not surprised when her lungs start failing, when she starts coughing blood, when she becomes too weak to move. Oikawa starts spending longer and longer at the training fields, and Iwaizumi doesn't try to stop him.</p><p>Oikawa Thetis is dying, and there's nothing they can do except try to smooth her passing.</p><p>War is coming.</p><p>Rumours float from over the sea. People say that the legions of Karasuno are stirring, that they are preparing for war. They say that crows are an omen of death, and the Flightless Crows are on the move, preparing to fight. Stirrings come from across the continent, and they say that the General of Shiratorizawa is looking for men, that the King of Nekoma is at his side.</p><p>War is coming across the horizon, and the Achilles will be expected to win it for them.</p><p>===</p><p>"Mother."</p><p>Oikawa stands at her bedside, face white and drawn. Outside the window, a bird trills.</p><p>The room is quiet, white sheets over the mirror, the cupboard, the bed. Oikawa Thetis coughs weakly, her frail body shaking with each sound.</p><p>"Mother, it's me. Tooru. Your son."</p><p>They've never been not close. Once upon a time, Oikawa Tooru hung off his mother's every word, followed her everywhere, eyes shining whenever he looked at her. Once upon a time, Thetis was the most important person in her son's life, his shining beacon. Once upon a time, Oikawa heard the myth of the Achilles, once upon a time, Oikawa picked up a spear, once upon a time, Oikawa met Iwaizumi under a tree in a garden.</p><p>Once upon a time, the gods looked at Oikawa Tooru, standing breathless over the defeated form of another, and crowned him their champion.</p><p>Oikawa Thetis knows her son is destined for great things. Oikawa Thetis has a mother's selfish instinct. Oikawa Thetis is not powerful, but she Isn't Blind. Divinity burns through her like a match in a storm, but she sees the future, and weeps for her son.</p><p>"Tooru. My son. My pride and joy."</p><p>"Mother. You're dying." Oikawa's voice trembles.</p><p>Her smile is as weak as the sunlight filtering through the window. "I've been dying for quite a while, sweetheart. You saw this coming."</p><p>A single tear slides down Oikawa's cheek. With great effort, she reaches up and cups his face with a hand.</p><p>"It's alright, Tooru. Death is a part of life."</p><p>He sniffles. A bird caws outside the window, and they both fall silent as they watch it flap away.</p><p>"There's going to be a war, my darling."</p><p>"I know," Oikawa whispers. "And I'm the new Achilles."</p><p>Thetis smiles weakly. "Congratulations. Have I told you that yet? I'm so proud of you. Achilles. What you've always wanted."</p><p>Oikawa clutches her hand. "If there's a war, I'll have to go. Champion of the gods, of the Greeks. I've trained for this my whole life, it's all I ever wanted, to see battle, to have my sword in hand and an enemy in front of me and an ally at my side. And yet…"</p><p>He swallows.</p><p>"…I'm scared."</p><p>"It's alright to be scared. You're Achilles, but before that, you were my son." She takes a deep rattling breath. "…your father died in the last war. I'm dying sooner than I wish, later than everyone thought, but I couldn't bear seeing you again in the afterlife so soon."</p><p>"We'll meet in Elysium, Mother," Oikawa says, voice steady, sure. "You've been a wonderful mother, and I'll be the greatest warrior in history."</p><p>"I hope I've been the mother you needed. My little Tooru. I named you for clarity, to be pure of heart and clear of conscience. I wanted you to be sharp of mind, to make good decisions with a kind soul. You may not have been blessed with the sight I have, but I wanted you to see yourself clearly, to see those around you clearly."</p><p>"And have I been the son you hoped for?"</p><p>Her eyes crinkle. "You have been the light of my life, you are who and what I am proudest of. My beautiful son. Blessed by the gods themselves. The wind sings about you, the sky reflects your eyes, the water, your smile. The whole world sings with praise for you, and my heart sings with it. You're going to be a great warrior."</p><p>Oikawa can't hide the way his eyes brighten like polished steel at those words. "A great warrior is all I want to be, Mother. I will bring glory to our name and protect our people. I will make you proud."</p><p>"I'm already proud of you, darling. Great warriors aren't always good people, but I know you, Tooru, and I know you'll be a good man. I've seen you in the waves, many, many times. The waves carry your name, but every time it appears, it shatters into pieces with the wave's break against the shore. Do not go to Troy. If you stay in Aoba Johsai, you will live to be a great king, one of the fairest kings the world will know. If you fight, you will die. "</p><p>"I will die, yes, but what else?"</p><p>A tear traces a path along her cheek. "You will gain glory. You will become a legend amongst men. But you will die, far too soon."</p><p>
  <em>(Was there really any hesitation for the boy who glowed silver with ambition? Was there any match for the fire burning in his soul?)</em>
</p><p>Her hands tighten on his, desperately. "Don't go, Tooru. Fulfill your mother's last wish. Keep yourself safe and alive, live a long and prosperous life. Please. Don't go."</p><p>
  <em>(…Against the love of a mother, yes.)</em>
</p><p>He exhales. "Alright, mother. I promise."</p><p>"He'll come looking for you." She doesn't need to clarify. They both know who she means. "He'll send someone after you, and you won't be able to refuse. If you refuse, someone will die."</p><p>His hands instinctively curl into fists. He won't let a death be on his hands. "Then what do I do?"</p><p>"Go. Hide. I've written to your great aunt, and she'll be hiding you in your cousin's household, amongst the dancers. There, on the chair. Change, and go."</p><p>Oikawa crosses the room in a blink. With steady hands, he divests himself of his tunic and pants. His hands only tremble when they stroke the dress laid out on the chair.</p><p>"One of my old ones. It's been remade. It should fit."</p><p>Almost reverently, he slips it on, his hands fumbling with the delicate pins and side clasps. He finger combs his hair, letting it settle in a brown veil across his shoulders. With his clean shaven baby face and his long silky tresses, he could pass for a maiden, a bit on the tall side, a little stronger than most, but a maiden nonetheless.</p><p>"Take my girdle. Wear it into battle, if it comes to that, and remember your mother. Remember your mother, and fight not for glory, but to survive. Carry a piece with me as you go."</p><p>Slowly, he leans down, placing a gentle kiss on her cheek. Her hand ruffles his hair weakly.</p><p>"Goodbye, Tooru. I'll see you again in the afterlife."</p><p>He pauses in the doorway, the hallway light outlining him in glowing white. "I love you, <em>mama</em>."</p><p>
  <em>"I love you too."</em>
</p><p>===</p><p>Iwaizumi only realises something is wrong when the doors won't open.</p><p>"What- Oikawa?" He curses loudly. "Oikawa, what's the matter with the door?"</p><p>Neither the door to the hallway nor the door to the adjoining dressing room opens. In the next room, he can hear Oikawa shuffling around, packing, his footsteps growing fainter as he exits and closer as he walks past the hallway door.</p><p>Iwaizumi bangs on the door and the footsteps stop. "Hey, Crapkawa, did you lock me in? I swear, if it's because I ate your milk bread after you pushed me into the lake-"</p><p>"Hajime."</p><p>He flinches at the stone-hard thread in Oikawa's voice.</p><p>"Iwa-chan, there's going to be a war. My mother says I have to hide."</p><p><em>There's going to be a war.</em> Iwaizumi's heard the rumors, everyone has, but he held out hope that they weren't real. For Thetis to confirm them… they must be. And for her to send her beloved son away when she was dying… It's serious. Iwaizumi growls and pounds the door again.</p><p>"Alright, shithead, so where are we going?"</p><p>"We?" Oikawa chokes out. "You have to stay, you have to fight for both of us. You're Patroclus, the Achilles for the people when Achilles isn't here."</p><p>Iwaizumi snorts. "Bullshit. A locked door isn't going to stop me for long, Tooru."</p><p>"But your mother is. Don't come after me, okay, Iwa-chan?" Oikawa sounds close to tears. "You love the clash of battle, the roar of glory. Don't follow me and stop yourself from doing what you love."</p><p>"I love you more." The phrase slips out before Iwaizumi can clench his jaw and bite it back. Outside, he hears Oikawa's breathing stop. He rests his forehead against the dark wood, his neck heating with more than just the warmth of the setting sun shining through the window. "I love you more than any battlefield, any healer's kit. No glory is worth losing you, dumbass."</p><p>Oikawa sniffles.</p><p>"Goodbye, Iwa-chan."</p><p>His eyes burn with tears. He hears Oikawa choke back a sob as he flees down the hallway, shoes clacking on the stone.</p><p>He's not sure which of them cries harder as his footsteps fade down the hallway. He wakes up cold with his face damp, in the dark, slumped alone against the door in their room.</p><p>Not theirs any longer. His.</p><p>===</p><p>The shoreline is vaguely familiar from a summer a decade ago. A small entourage stands at the pier, sunlight glinting off a circlet.</p><p>Oikawa draws the veil over his face, smooths down his mother's dress, lets his long hair cascade pleasingly over his shoulders, and <em>exhales.</em></p><p>He steps off the boat, greeting them with a curtsy. "Hello! I'm Oikawa Tooru, daughter of Oikawa Thetis, and my mother has sent me here. She didn't want to cause me distress by having me be there for her passing, as well as wanting me to learn, well, dance. I suppose arrangements have been made?"</p><p>The light haired man steps forward with a bow. "Yahaba Shigeru. Welcome to my mother's estate. You'll be joining the dancers in my household, hidden from the world. It's a pleasure to meet you."</p><p>"Oh, no," Oikawa lilts, his head tilted to the side, feminine wiles in every line. He watches the man in front of him slowly bloom red, and allows himself to feel a trickle of smug glee. "The pleasure is all mine."</p><p>===</p><p>Iwaizumi Hajime, Patroclus, heir to the Iwaizumi line, is tearing up his room and stuffing it all into a bag.</p><p>"Hajime, you are not going after that boy."</p><p>Iwaizumi pauses in his frenzy of packing to scowl at his mother. "That 'boy' is my <em>philtatos</em>, Mother. You've known him as long as I have!"</p><p>"He's just some boy. <em>Philtatos</em> or not, he's leaving you too. He told you not to follow him! Don't run after him like a fool. You're the Iwaizumi heir, you're better than some skirt chasing boy."</p><p>"The heir? Mother, have you been grieving for Haruto so long that you forget how the world works?"</p><p>Her eyes narrow. "I'm still your mother, Hajime. Watch your tongue."</p><p>Iwaizumi double checks the contents of his pack and ties it deftly. He hoists it onto his back and grabs his sword ―his brother's sword ― and straps it to his belt. "Then maybe you should have acted more like it. I'm leaving, <em>Mother.</em> He's my <em>philtatos.</em> Why don't you ask Haruto what happens when you separate <em>philtatos</em>? Oh wait. You can't. Because he's dead."</p><p>As soon as the words are out of his mouth, he wishes he could take them back. His mother recoils against the doorframe, bone white and trembling, and he feels aching guilt settle in his stomach. <em>I'm sorry, Haruto, for dishonouring your memory. But I had to. I'll make an offering later, to make up for it.</em></p><p>"I've lost one son, Hajime." Her voice is flat, dark. "I'm not losing another."</p><p>"There's going to be <em>war,</em> Mother. War is my birthright. Healing is my birthright. Oikawa is linked to my soul. Even if I don't go now, I'll have to leave when Ushiwaka comes calling. You can't stop me."</p><p>She points a trembling bony finger at him. "Walk out that door, Hajime, and you're not welcome back here. You shed the Iwaizumi name, the Iwaizumi family. Walk out, and you're disowned. If you're going to go, don't come back."</p><p>Iwaizumi takes a deep breath, holds it, exhales. "Fine. I shed the Iwaizumi family name. I carry the name 'Iwaizumi' to honour my fallen brother instead." Something dark cracks deep inside him, and he forces his legs to hold steady. Head held high, hand on his hilt, he walks out. Behind him, he hears a faint wail.</p><p>Iwaizumi Hajime, Patroclus, lover of Achilles, <em>Philtatos</em> to Oikawa Tooru, sets out to find him.</p><p> </p><p>Kuroo frowns at Ushijima. "What do you mean he's not there?"</p><p>Ushijima sighs. "I've sent men to Aoba Johsai, I've sent letters and gifts. Oikawa isn't there. Neither is Iwaizumi."</p><p>He feels a tendril of curiosity stir. "Oho? Well, I suppose I'll have to do the job myself."</p><p> </p><p>Iwaizumi's knuckles are white where he clutches the ship's edge. The sea spray tastes like freedom, the salt almost masking the edge of metallic panic on his tongue. Oikawa Thetis had folded and told him, of course she had, and now Iwaizumi is on a ship bound for the Yahabas' Island. There's been a pit in his soul ever since he disowned himself, a loose thread threatening to unravel him. It flutters and he feels nausea rise up in his throat, hands clenching tighter around the ship's edge. <em>Oikawa. I'm coming.</em></p><p>As he steps off the boat, sword strapped to his back and covered by a sea green cloak, a light haired man comes up to him and bows. "Welcome. I'm Yahaba Shigeru, the head of this estate."</p><p>"Iwaizumi Hajime," he nods sharply at him. "I'm here to… find someone. I heard that they would be staying here, or visiting here soon?"</p><p>Yahaba's eyes flash, tensing at the words. "Iwaizumi Hajime… your name sounds familiar."</p><p><em>Fuck.</em> He should have given a false name, should have phrased it better to sound less suspicious. Ah well, too late now. "Yes, I'm known for my healing skills in Aoba Johsai. Perhaps you have a relative there?"</p><p>"Ah, Seijoh." Yahaba relaxes fractionally. "I used to live there, before moving out here with my mother to inherit this island. Come, let me show you to your room. Perhaps you'll get a chance to watch our dancers perform sometime this week."</p><p>He bows slightly. "Thank you, Yahaba-san. Lovely to meet you."</p><p>Yahaba smiles at him, tension lurking in the corners of his eyes. "The pleasure is all mine."</p><p>===</p><p>The first two days of his stay are uneventful. The nausea gets worse, and he finds himself unfit for socialising. He wakes up, he goes for a run, he spars for a bit in their field, then he explores the island and its woods. Iwaizumi eats dinner in his room, away from the rest of the estate and whatever dancers are there. He tries his best to be unnoticed, and he almost succeeds.</p><p>The third day, Kuroo Tetsurou shows up, decked in red and gold.</p><p>"Iwaizumi-kun!" Kuroo yells, spreading his arms with a wide grin. "It's been too long!"</p><p>Iwaizumi drops his sword and drops into a bow. "Kuroo Tetsurou? Your Majesty."</p><p>"Pfft, no need for that nonsense." Kuroo tugs him up, handing his red cloak off to a servant. "It's not like we stopped being friends even if we stopped writing."</p><p>He smiles wryly. "True. How's Nekoma treating you?"</p><p>"Ah, same old, same old. Kenma's doing great! He's the conduit now and he, well, he doesn’t hate it, which is about as much as one could hope for. The kingdom's great! You should come visit sometime with 'Kawa! Say, where is he? Haven't seen you two apart for ages."</p><p>Iwaizumi's smile is tight. "Ah, he's off on an… errand, for his mother. I'm visiting the Yahabas, his cousins, while I wait for him. What brings you here?"</p><p>Kuroo winks and brings a finger to his lips. "I'm looking for someone for Ushiwaka. A little birdy told me they might be here."</p><p>"Oh? You're working with Ushijima?"</p><p>"Yeah, every general needs a great strategist, and who's better than I am?" It's true, none of them have ever beaten him at chess, except Kenma. Iwaizumi snorts and shoves him.</p><p>"Such a high opinion of yourself. Let's go to dinner, I'm hungry."</p><p>Kuroo loops an arm around his shoulders, the stark red of his jacket standing out against the pale green of his tunic. "Say, have you learnt any new hairstyles? Kenma's hair has grown so long, and I can't thank you enough for teaching me how to braid it."</p><p>"Are you two getting married? It's custom in your kingdom for the State head and the Divine head to marry."</p><p>"Yes, well," Kuroo says, his eyes softening. "It's Kenma. It's also a marriage of love."</p><p><br/>
</p><p>Kuroo sits on his right at dinner, and the two talk almost non-stop. The food is exquisite, far better than the sandwiches Iwaizumi has been sneaking into his room to eat alone. Kuroo's cackling laugh is as raucous and infectious as ever, and Iwaizumi feels his heart lightening.</p><p>After the dishes are cleared, Yahaba claps his hands lightly. "Ladies and gentlemen! We're so honoured to have King Kuroo of Nekoma to be visiting us today. Please, a warm welcome, everyone!" Kuroo laughs and waves off the applause, grinning widely and nudging Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi is distracted by the wooden doors opening, two lines of willowy girls filing in.</p><p>"Let us welcome the dancers, who have prepared a dance!"</p><p>The last dancer glides into the room, long brown hair cascading down their back, their face covered by a veil. A silver girdle encircles their slender waist. Iwaizumi frowns. <em>Something feels… off</em>. He could have sworn the dancer flinched while passing him. Then, the dancer spins and takes off in a leap, and Iwaizumi feels his breath catch in his throat.</p><p>That's Oikawa. The way he moves is unmistakable, and his long brown hair whips around his face as he dances, strength supporting beauty in every move. Iwaizumi's heart pounds a tattoo against his ribs, the pit in his insides slowly warming.</p><p>Next to him, Kuroo's eyes narrow.</p><p>Oikawa lifts a petite girl over his head as she arches backwards and the troupe stops, finished. The room erupts into applause, and the dancers curtsy, relaxing and giggling amongst themselves. The veils hide their faces, but Iwaizumi notices quite a few girls sneaking glances at Kuroo. He halfheartedly nudges him. "Looks like you're quite popular."</p><p>Kuroo starts. "What? Oh, yeah, I'm a handsome king. Of course!"</p><p>Iwaizumi snorts. "Handsome. Please, you look like a rooster. Go mingle and break hearts, Tetsurou."</p><p>"Mmm? And are you going to go for a tumble?" Kuroo runs his hands through his messy hair, not quite meeting his eyes. "You were quite fixated on that tall lady over there."</p><p>"Perhaps." From the corner of his eye, he sees Oikawa slip out of the room, and he stands abruptly. "By your leave, Kuroo."</p><p>Kuroo distractedly flaps a hand at him, already turning towards an approaching messenger. "Go, go seduce your pretty dancer maiden."</p><p>With a parting flick to Kuroo's forehead, Iwaizumi slips out of the room after him.</p><p>The figure clothed in white moves quickly down the hall, dark hair and pale skirts fluttering. Iwaizumi steps quickly after it. He opens his mouth.</p><p>"Oikawa."</p><p>The figure stops.</p><p>Iwaizumi steps closer. "Tooru."</p><p>The figure turns, veil swishing as he moves. In a lilting high voice, he asks, "Sorry, who?"</p><p>Iwaizumi's brow furrows. "Tooru, we both know it's you. It's a veil and a dress, not a change of who you are."</p><p>Even through the layers of silk, Iwaizumi can see his shoulders stiffen. "Sorry, I'm not who you're looking for."</p><p>"Please, Oikawa. I told you I would find you." Iwaizumi steps close tentatively. The dancer backs away until their back is pressed to a gold-gilded pillar.</p><p>"Sir, I'm not who you're looking for."</p><p>"Cut the crap, Shittykawa," Iwaizumi says, barely an arm length away from him. "Don't think I can't recognize you." He gently pinches the veil between two fingers.</p><p>"Iwa-chan, wait-"</p><p>Iwaizumi draws the veil over his head, uncovering Oikawa's face, bone white. "I told you I would follow you to the ends of the earth and not beyond. Why are you surprised?"</p><p>"Why are you here? How did you even find me?"</p><p>He rolls his eyes. "You really thought your mother wouldn't tell me and let me accompany you? Please. She at least understands <em>philtatos</em>, and understands how far I would go for you."</p><p>Oikawa's fists clench. "You shouldn't be here. I've dishonoured myself by dressing as a girl, by hiding away from my duties."</p><p>"It's alright. It was your mother's dying wish."</p><p>"You don't understand, Iwa-chan. I let her do it. I was scared to go, to fight."</p><p>"So what? You're still human. It's normal to be scared."</p><p>"No!" Oikawa cries, distraught. "You shouldn't have followed me! You should have followed Ushijima and Kuroo to Troy, gained eternal glory and victory before coming back for me."</p><p>"I disowned myself for you, Tooru," Iwaizumi hisses, eyes wild. "I'm an Iwaizumi by carrying my brother's name alone now. Don't dishonour our relationship like that."</p><p>"You-" Oikawa's mouth falls open. Unmooring yourself from your family is dangerous, and it's why disownment is such an effective threat. To do it voluntarily is almost unheard of, and to have done it for him…</p><p>"Yeah, I did." His pine green eyes are angry and defiant. "So are you going to let me stay by your side or not?"</p><p>Oikawa captures his lips in a kiss. The roaring chasm in his chest finally falls silent, the loose end attaching it to his <em>philtatos</em>. The answer is clear. <em>Of course.</em></p><p>He rests their foreheads together. "I've missed you."</p><p>Iwaizumi laughs wetly, pinching his side. "Then never go away without me again."</p><p>They are interrupted by a cough. Yahaba Shigeru stands awkwardly at the door to the hall, hands clasped behind his back. "Um, Tou-chan, Iwaizumi-san, the King has prepared a gift for the dancers and would like you to rejoin them in the room."</p><p>Iwaizumi coughs, face flushed. "Yes, of course." He tugs Oikawa's veils back over his face, and Oikawa giggles, following him back inside.</p><p>"Zumi!" Kuroo calls exuberantly, sprawled on a chaise lounge. Tables laden with jewelry, silks, and trinkets are spread in front of him.  "Come! Look at all these gifts!"</p><p>Reluctantly, Iwaizumi lets Oikawa drag him over, and trudges over to Kuroo. "And why does this interest me?"</p><p>Kuroo's eyes glint. "I thought you might want to pick one for your little lady."</p><p>He scowls. "She can pick her own gifts, thank you very much. Besides, I'd probably pick something stupid, like those twin daggers you've put at the end. It's ridiculous. Jewel crusted? These are too flashy and impractical, even for a girl." Over at the tables, Oikawa is cooing over a gold necklace studded with pearls. It's terribly gaudy, but Oikawa looks utterly enchanted.</p><p>Kuroo nudges him. "Ah, don't be like that. Say, did you find who you were looking for? When's Oikawa going to appear?"</p><p>Iwaizumi forces a chuckle. "You know Oikawa. Free spirit and all that. He'll show up when he feels like it. And the one you're looking for?"</p><p>"Probably soon." Kuroo's smile is suddenly too sharp, and Iwaizumi feels his hackles rise. "Sorry in advance."</p><p>"Kuroo, what-"</p><p>In the blink of an eye, Kuroo stands and draws his twin blades, lunging at him. Iwaizumi barely dodges the first knife, the second one catching his arm. He hisses in pain. "Kuroo Tetsurou, have you gone insane?"</p><p>Kuroo's lips quirk. "Please, <em>Iwa-chan</em>, you know I always have a plan." He leaps, spinning in midair, and lands a kick right across his ribs. Iwaizumi staggers backwards, almost collapsing, and barely rolls out of the way as knives come down where his face was a second ago. Kuroo's leg sweeps out and Iwaizumi finds himself flat on his back on the ground as Kuroo advances towards him.</p><p>There is a flurry of white, and suddenly the twin blades are clattering onto the floor and Oikawa is there, bronze hair fluttering, pinning Kuroo to the wall with one leg, a guard's sword braced at his throat. "Your Majesty, what are you doing?"</p><p>Kuroo raises an eyebrow. Then, whip-quick, he reaches out and rips off Oikawa's veil. Iwaizumi gasps, forcing his legs up and stumbling towards them.</p><p>"Oikawa Tooru. Very clever, but not quite clever enough."</p><p>Oikawa looks at him, eyes like polished amber and hair glowing bronze as he stares down the length of the sword at Kuroo. "Tetsu-kun. Long time no see."</p><p>Kuroo's answering smile is dark and sharp. "Tou-chan. Hello, Achilles."</p><p>===</p><p>Iwaizumi is unlacing the back of his dress when Kuroo Tetsurou walks in.</p><p>"Oikawa Tooru." Kuroo bows, dropping to one knee. "Forgive the intrusion."</p><p>Oikawa turns his nose up, his skirts fluttering. "I'd rather not. Speak faster and get to the point."</p><p>"The Lady of Karasuno has been taken. Prince Paris of Troy stole her away."</p><p>Iwaizumi and Oikawa snap around to look at him so fast that Kuroo winces in sympathy for their necks. <em>The Lady Of Karasuno.</em> High priestess and conduit of the gods, Crow Maiden and famed healer, Athene-blessed Shimizu Kiyoko, famed not only for her spiritual prowess, but for her legendary beauty. People say that she could stop a war with a single smile, that she's Aphrodite's daughter, blessed with everlasting beauty, that she has a mind as sharp as Daedalus himself.</p><p>"That's why Sawamura is starting a war. That's why Ushiwaka is looking for men. Because when a sacred maiden has been taken, there's no other choice."</p><p>Iwaizumi finishes undoing his dress and stands. "What do you want from us?"</p><p>Kuroo spreads his hands helplessly. "You're the Achilles. You tell me. We need our champion, to win our war."</p><p>Oikawa bites his lip.</p><p>"C'mon, Tou-chan. You've been training for this your whole life."</p><p>"My mother." His voice is quiet. "She's dying. I promised her I wouldn't fight."</p><p>"Oikawa, this is your gods-given duty. You have to. I know you want to."</p><p>Iwaizumi moves forward, seeing the tension. "What more do you need from us?"</p><p>"We set sail next month. We need supplies, weapons, men, ships. We need the army of Aoba Johsai, the Seijoh knights. We need Achilles and his Patroclus to head our army with our General."</p><p>Oikawa waves his hand. "We'll think about it. But we'll be there."</p><p>Kuroo bows, turning to leave.</p><p>"Say, Kuroo."</p><p>Kuroo pauses in the doorway.</p><p>"What happened to you being a nice guy? Years ago, in Edo, you said that you would lay down your life for peace after you became king. Diplomacy, not dick-measuring, in your own words. How did you get tricked into fighting?"</p><p>Kuroo's lips twist mockingly. "Do I not seem like a genuinely decent person who would help a friend in need?"</p><p>Oikawa tilts his head to the side. "I find that hard to believe, especially since you have a marriage of divinity lined up. Do you even have an heir?"</p><p>He smiles, sharp edged and wrong. "I do. Haiba Lev, one of my wards. And when someone threatens both your betrothed and your heir, what else was I to do?"</p><p>===</p><p>Sawamura Daichi, King of Karasuno, leader of the Flightless Crows, looks out over the ocean, one hand on his sword, his dark cloak fluttering behind him.</p><p>"Hey there, Captain, why so worried?"</p><p>He turns to see Kuroo Tetsurou standing there, decked in red, a smile playing on his lips. He smiles. "Kuroo."</p><p>"What's up, Sawamura. Ready to set out?"</p><p>"Almost," He huffs. "The wind just won't turn."</p><p>"You seem worried." As soon as the words are out of his mouth, Kuroo realises how ridiculous they sound. Of course he's worried. Their divine maiden was just taken, and the kingdom was probably in uproar.</p><p>"Worried is an understatement. I had to send Tanaka away to stop him from wrecking the palace and sailing to Troy right away. He's staying with Nishinoya and Asahi in the mountains right now. And I've left Karasuno in Suga's hands. It's just… she was my responsibility. The divine center of our kingdom, betrothed to one of my own. What if we've lost her to Troy forever?"</p><p>Kuroo pulls out a scroll from his pack and shows it to him. "Ushiwaka is meeting us there. It's going to be fine."</p><p>Daichi blows out a breath. "I know. I'm just worried. I don't want to be away too long."</p><p>He smirks at Daichi. "Don’t worry, Sawamura, we'll get her back. After all, we have the best of men on our side."</p><p>Daichi's eyes narrow in confusion, then widen. "You don’t mean… No way. Kuroo, don’t tell me you-"</p><p>A flood of men dressed in mint-blue and silver armour appear, marching in harmony towards the docks. Without his notice, somehow there are multiple ships more ready to sail. At the head of the crowd strides a tall man dressed in green and silver, his dark hair flowing in the sea breeze. By his side, a muscular brunette with spiky hair and a frown.</p><p>"Yoohoo~" Oikawa chirps, waving his hand gaily. "Kuroo-san! Sawamura-san! Have you waited long?" He flips his hair and beams. "Don't worry, the Achilles is here!"</p><p>Oikawa moves as if he already owns the place, a helping hand here, a casual word there. Iwaizumi follows behind him scowling, already seeming annoyed at how flippant Oikawa's existence is.</p><p>"<em>Kuroo</em>," Daichi groans, hand covering his face. "He's going to be insufferable."</p><p>Kuroo snorts. "Sawamura, are you seeing what I'm seeing?"</p><p>Daichi peeks out from between his fingers. His hand falls away in shock.</p><p>Already, whispers and chatter fill the air, men standing straighter and moving more confidently. And already the wind is picking up, the sails filling and billowing in the breeze. It's as if the world has suddenly slotted into place, and everything is finally moving smoothly.</p><p>"…Are my eyes deceiving me?" Daichi's voice is hushed and awe-filled. "How…"</p><p>"Oikawa Tooru is the type of leader who brings out the best in the people around him. If a man has a single drop of potential at all, he'll make it bloom." Kuroo's eyes are sharp as they follow Oikawa around the docks. "Hate to say it, Sawamura, but we couldn't win the war without him."</p><p>===</p><p>"Oikawa Tooru."</p><p>Kozume Kenma stands there, dressed in flowing gray silk. A gentle breeze ruffles through his long blonde hair, the dark roots stark against the yellow and gray. Oikawa drops into a bow.</p><p>"Conduit Kenma. You honour me with your presence."</p><p>"Rise, Achilles." Kenma's eyes are bright and empty. "My Lady has a message for you, Oikawa Tooru."</p><p>Oikawa bows his head and drops to one knee. Kenma gently places his hands on his shoulders, and tilts his chin to meet his eyes.</p><p>Gray smoke pours from his eyes. "<em>Do not fight Hector, Achilles. Leave him alive. For once Hector is dead, so too you shall die. Heed my warning, Oikawa Tooru, and go forth into victory. Retrieve my favored, and defend my honour. It would be a shame for the Achilles to die before his time</em>"</p><p>He collapses without another word. Oikawa darts forward and catches his limp form, gently lowering him to the ground. He waits till Kenma stirs, then bows deeply.</p><p>"Lady Athene, I thank you for the warning, and give you my oath to heed it. Why should I kill Hector? What has he ever done to me?"</p><p>He stands with a flourish, flashing his moon-bright smile. Bowing to Kenma again, he leaves the room</p><p>Kenma's eyes are old beyond his years. They hold decades of sorrow as he watches him go.</p><p>"Forgive me, Oikawa Tooru. Forgive me for what I cannot tell you."</p><p><br/>
</p><p>"What did Kenma want?" Iwaizumi asks. His arms ripple as he polishes his sword, and Oikawa takes a moment to appreciate the sight. Iwaizumi notices and turns dull red, chucking the used cloth at his head.</p><p>"Iwa-chan, how can you stand to be so casual around Athene's conduit? He's so perceptive it scares me," Oikawa whines.</p><p>Iwaizumi snorts.</p><p>"Yeah, but he's still the same Kodzuken who tripped into a river because he was too busy figuring out a scroll to see where he was going. He's still a friend, he's just… more sacred now."</p><p>Oikawa chucks a scroll at his head. "Mean! Iwa-chan is supposed to take my side."</p><p>"Whatever. What did he want, Shittykawa?"</p><p>"Hmm." Oikawa turns to face him, eyes serious. "He, well, Athene, told me not to face Hector in combat. Apparently, if I fight him, I'll kill him. And if I kill him, I'll die."</p><p>Iwaizumi grabs him by his shoulders, serious in a heartbeat. "Oikawa, this is important. The waves showed your mother your death in the war. If Athene thinks it's important enough to warn you, then you shouldn't do it."</p><p>Oikawa tries to twist out of his grip. "Well, duh, Iwa-chan. I'm not stupid. I won't do it, okay?"</p><p>"Promise me you won't fight Hector, okay? If the time comes, I'll fight him for you."</p><p>"Iwa-chan, what has Hector ever done to me? Why should I face him?"</p><p>"Promise me." Iwaizumi's pine-dark eyes bore into his.</p><p>Oikawa exhales, a long slow whoosh. "Okay. I promise."</p><p>===</p><p>The meeting with Ushijima goes about as well as one could expect.</p><p>They set up camp by the beach, next to a small forest. Kuroo makes sure to delicately mention the Shiratorizawa camp's position to Iwaizumi, and he in turn manages to subtly maneuver the Aoba Johsai camp to the opposite end of the campgrounds.</p><p>The first time Oikawa and Ushijima meet outside of Troy, the air crackles with electricity.</p><p>The two titans stand facing each other, a table with a map open between them. Oikawa's hair is faintly bronze, his knuckles white around his spear, eyes boring a hole into Ushijima. Ushijima in turn stands there like a marble statue, face impassive as always. He meets Oikawa's gaze with surprising ease, without a single flinch. The two stand opposite each other, the tension radiating off the duo in waves, as their armies shift nervously at their face off.</p><p>Oikawa's glare melts into a smile, just a little too sharp around the edges. He bows almost sincerely. "Ushiwaka-chan~ How have you been? Congratulations on your throne and your new Generalship."</p><p>Ushijima returns the bow. "Oikawa Tooru. I have been very well, thank you. Shiratorizawa has been having fertile yields. As for being General, I received it the same time you received your Achilles-ship."</p><p>"Ah, well, I don't think I congratulated you properly then. This is to make up for it!"</p><p>Ushijima smiles faintly. "And how have you been? I'm flattered that you drew on the divine just to meet me."</p><p>The charged air dissipates and bronze hair fades back to brown. Oikawa blinks, shaking his head abruptly. "Ah, you noticed? Well, I do have to impress my rival somehow."</p><p>Kuroo claps loudly, shocking both of them. "Well, as fascinating as this reunion has been, I trust that you two have worked out your… issues… enough to work civilly?"</p><p>Ushijima lifts a brow. Oikawa deadpans at him. He shrugs, and they both sigh and nod.</p><p>Kuroo smiles, his teeth sharp. "Good."</p><p>===</p><p>Oikawa meets Sawamura Daichi, dressed in black. His Flightless Crows are missing a few, having been sent off with Tanaka. He inclines his head at Daichi and smiles sharply at Kageyama, rolling his eyes at Hinata jumping around and waving at him. "Sawamura. I heard you were the one who started this mess."</p><p>Daichi meets his stare evenly. "I protect my own. You understand, of course?"</p><p>Their handshake is firm, and Oikawa's lips quirk into a smile. "Of course. I look forward to fighting by your side."</p><p>The war starts.</p><p>Ushijima orders attacks on the Trojan walls. The Trojan soldiers camp outside the walls, and they clash every other day. Blood seeps into the dust and the dirt, soaking it rust-red. Oikawa laughs gleefully, spearing three soldiers at once, their blades shattering on his skin, bronze braid whipping as he moves. Iwaizumi fights beside him, but his real fight is in the camp, fighting against time to save the wounded and the dying. Oikawa's hands stain with the blood of dead enemies and Iwaizumi's hands stain with the blood of their fallen friends.</p><p>Oikawa's eyes glint with the joy of a good fight, all hints of fear melted away. Iwaizumi grits his teeth and stills his hands as he stitches up someone's shoulder. Oikawa laughs as he compares kill counts with the kings, surpassing them by far. Iwaizumi ties off a bandage and moves onto the next soldier, wiping the blood off on his white shift.</p><p>They're both fated for war. They have different destinies.</p><p>"Iwa-chan, duck!" Oikawa lunges, stabbing a trojan soldier in the ribs. "Be careful!"</p><p>Iwaizumi scowls, knocking an arrow out of midair. "Easy for you to say, Mr Invincible!"</p><p>He gets a cheeky grin in response. "Yeah, and I earned it."</p><p>"Do you want me to stab you? You know I'm the only one who can." As if to punctuate his point, Iwaizumi's sword slips across Oikawa's arm as he stabs another soldier, leaving a thin red ribbon of blood across his arm. Oikawa hisses.</p><p>"Mean, Iwa-chan!"</p><p>"Ugh, shit, sorry!" Iwaizumi leans backwards, avoiding a trojan spear. "Fucking focus, Shittykawa!"</p><p>"Sorry~" Oikawa blocks a spear with his hand, the shaft snapping, and spins to spear the soldier in turn. "You're just special. It's not like any of <em>them</em> can hurt me."</p><p>He rolls his eyes. "Yeah well, we can't all be Achilles, gods-blessed, like you." He blocks a sword, seeing the Trojan grit his teeth at their casual banter. He ducks behind Oikawa, letting the blade shatter on his porcelain skin, and stabs the soldier through the gut. "I'm putting you to good use."</p><p>Oikawa stands, puffing a loose tendril of hair out of his eyes. "Good job." The duo stand surrounded by corpses, blood puddling at their feet.</p><p>"Iwa-chan, maybe we should head back. Today's clash is almost over, and you need to be at the healer's tent-" Oikawa turns to go, Iwaizumi at his heels.</p><p>"<em>Watch out!</em>"</p><p>A Trojan sword swings down, right at the back of his right knee. Oikawa turns, eyes widening, <em>too slow-</em></p><p>The sword bites deep into Kageyama's thigh. The younger grits his teeth, a low mangled scream of pain wrenching from his lips. The lone soldier's eyes widen. "The Achilles's weak spot-"</p><p>Before he can say another word, three throwing stars embed themselves in his forehead, his cheek, his jugular, a neat line. Hinata vaults over an unmoving Trojan. "Kageyama, you idiot! What the hell!"</p><p>Kageyama stands with difficulty, Iwaizumi dragging him back down. "He was going to stab Oikawa-san!"</p><p>"He's the Achilles, he's invulnerable."</p><p>Blue eyes meet brown and both are too old for their age. "Zeus told me to. Oikawa-san, that's…"</p><p>He smiles tightly. "Quite."</p><p>Kageyama lets his head fall back against Hinata's leg as Iwaizumi rips up his cloak, hastily bandaging the gash. It soaks through in barely a minute. "Kageyama, we need to get you to the healers. That's a deep wound."</p><p>"Yeah, Bakageyama, I can't beat your kill count if you're too injured to fight well!" Hinata says, his concern barely veiled by his loud declaration. Iwaizumi hoists Kageyama up, supporting him between Oikawa and himself. Kageyama makes a half agreeing sound, eyes already slipping shut.</p><p>"Oi, nope, keep your eyes open." Iwaizumi gently prods him in the ribs. "Don't go into shock just yet, yeah?"</p><p>Oikawa laughs. "Come on, Tobio-chan, just a little longer?"</p><p>"<em>KagEYAMA</em>, keep your damned gorgeous blue eyes open!"</p><p>His eyes open weakly, frowning at Hinata. "Shut up, boke."</p><p>Hinata hops along after them, occasionally throwing a glass blade through the throats of lone approaching soldiers. "Then don't faint like a fair maiden."</p><p>He struggles to find his footing. "Fine." Iwaizumi huffs as some of the weight moves off his shoulders. The three limp along, Hinata bringing up the rear.</p><p>"So, are you two…"</p><p>"<em>Philtatos</em>, yeah, like you and Iwaizumi-san," Kageyama mumbles, his feet stumbling over a root. Oikawa braces him before he trips.</p><p>"Congratulations."</p><p>"Mm."</p><p>"I'm sorry." Oikawa stares straight ahead, eyes unreadable. "For what I did after the tournament. That was… unforgivable of me."</p><p>Kageyama chuckles weakly. "Well, you didn't kill me. It's alright."</p><p>"I would have."</p><p>"But Iwaizumi stopped you. It's alright. I think… I think I understand now."</p><p>Oikawa glances sharply at him. Blue eyes are fixed on fluffy orange hair, the owner of the hair currently somehow leaping from tree to tree, keeping up with them. He smiles. "Good. I heard the rumours. I'm glad you found someone to keep up with you."</p><p>He huffs. "I'm gladder."</p><p>The camp is in sight. Blood soaks out of the bandage, trailing down his leg. Kageyama's eyelids flutter, his face pale. Oikawa pats his face lightly. "Hey, hey, almost there."</p><p>"Ugh."</p><p>As soon as they're in camp, Kageyama collapses into a heap on the white healer's tarp, eyes rolling back in his head. Hinata disembarks from a tree with a backflip and runs towards them. Iwaizumi rips the makeshift bandage off, hands flying across the wound with herbs, cloth, needle, thread.</p><p>"Hey, Kageyama."</p><p>Weakly, he looks towards Oikawa. Oikawa kneels down next to him, eyes soft. "You're a great warrior. It's my honour to fight with you."</p><p>===</p><p>Kageyama's leg is fine. Over the next few months, it heals into a raised white scar.</p><p>The clashes continue. They barely breach the first ring of Trojan camps. They don’t make it to the walls. Even if they did, the walls are tall stone, as impenetrable as Date Tech. The only way in is the large wooden door, and presumably whatever secret passageway the Trojans are using to send out more soldiers and supplies.</p><p>One night, Kuroo and Oikawa sneak out and sneak in. They stand beneath the great Trojan walls, built by Poseidon himself, and Kuroo blinks. "Well. These walls are going to be a problem."</p><p>Oikawa snorts. "That's putting it lightly."</p><p>Three more months pass. Then two more. The ocean wind goes from breezy to full out chilly, and it doesn't snow. It's been a full year since they sailed for Troy, a full year since the war started. They are no closer to winning, or to losing. The Greeks are slowly running out of supplies. The land is too blood-soaked and ruined to farm, ships sending supplies too few and far between.</p><p>Ushijima orders raids.</p><p>The surrounding Trojan villages are barely defended. They fall quickly, men cut down in minutes, women, children taken to their camps, some slaughtered at the discretion of the soldiers. They take the food, take their wealth.</p><p>Here, Oikawa doesn’t find joy.</p><p>Still, he's Achilles, and the people need to eat.</p><p>He laughs as he fights outside the Trojan Wall, Iwaizumi at his side. He prays to the gods before steeling himself and following the raiding soldiers into a village. He gets into an argument with Ushijima and wakes up blazing with fever in his and Iwaizumi's bed, the ruins of three villages smoldering in his wake, hot tears burning down his cheeks. His glowing bronze braid and silver girdle quickly become symbols to follow, a sign of victory in every battle.</p><p>He's the Achilles. He's protecting his people. He stubbornly ignores the niggling voice at the back of his head, whispering that <em>the people you kill are people too. They’re the enemy, but they have families too.</em> He's protecting his people, and everyone else is a faceless enemy.</p><p>Iwaizumi keeps an eye on him, but they're in the middle of a war. They can barely spare a minute for each other, Iwaizumi spending days at the healers' tent, Oikawa spending his days training, strategizing, fighting. They're stretched thin.</p><p>Something is bound to snap.</p><p>They're on another raid, in the aftermath of a burning town and hostages being tied up. Oikawa is lugging a sack of flour towards the cart when he hears a scream. His eyes narrow, and he passes the sack off to Iwaizumi, picking up his spear and starting towards the sound.</p><p>A soldier stands over three prone girls. One of them lies eyes blank towards the sky, blood pooling under her. Another is kneeling, huddled against the wall, tied up and terrified. A third is pinned against the wall, limp and crying, as the soldier thrusts into her. Steel flashes, and a sword pierces through her chest. She stills, mid-cry, and slumps to the ground dead. The only living girl lets out a wordless whine of terror, scrabbling away. He leers at her and hauls her up, pinning her to the wall with one hand, stopping her struggles. As her eyes well with tears, he yanks at her dress.</p><p>"What are you doing?"</p><p>He whips around, hand falling from her skirt. Oikawa feels himself burning with disgust.</p><p>"Ah, Achilles! Just having some fun. Would you like to join in?" He smiles wickedly, eyes flashing. Oikawa's hair flares bronze, and he wrenches the man's hand away, shoving him to the floor.</p><p>Almost casually, he steps on it, hearing a crack. "Oops."</p><p>"Heh. What, you want her all to yourself? Sure. I've already had two of her kind."</p><p>"Do your job, soldier." Oikawa's voice is burning cold. "Get supplies for our people. Leave the innocents alone."</p><p>The soldier spits at his feet. "What's wrong, Achilles, too high and mighty to have some fun?"</p><p>The spear is through his shoulder before he can blink. Oikawa towers over him, and he doesn't even dare scream. "I said, <em>leave the innocents alone.</em>"</p><p>"…Fine."</p><p>Oikawa hauls him up by his collar, pushing him away. "Go."</p><p>The soldier sneers. Oikawa turns towards the cowering girl, eyes soft. A sword slashes down, and the girl chokes, a blood-red smile opening across her throat. The soldier drops his sword. "<em>Now</em> I'll go."</p><p>Oikawa's eyes begin to trail gold fire. "Why."</p><p>"If I can't enjoy her, neither can you."</p><p>With a scream of rage, Oikawa picks him up and hurls him across the village square. He hits a wall with a sickening crack and slides down, leaving a trail of blood. "She was just a girl! She did nothing wrong except be born in the wrong place!"</p><p>"And my father did nothing wrong but try and protect his people!" The shrill scream rings out from the other side of the village square.</p><p>He turns to find a girl, barely full grown, bound and forced to kneel, glaring at him with hatred in her eyes. His golden eyes extinguish to brown with shock. "He was trying to protect me, to protect our home. Say what you want, Achilles, but he was doing the same as you were. And you killed him. You killed him, you filthy murderer!"</p><p>"I-"</p><p>"My father, my mother, my neighbors and friends, all cut down under the swords of Greeks. Are you really any better than them?"</p><p><em>I named you for clarity.</em> And oh, it's all too clear to him now, the truth he was forcing himself not to see. He sees the ruined village, the dead men, and imagines Aoba Johsai, imagines himself and his family and his friends.</p><p>The Achilles protected his people, but his enemies were people too. And who protected them?</p><p>===</p><p>"Am I a murderer, Iwa-chan?"</p><p>"No. You're a warrior, a soldier. You're Achilles, protecting your people."</p><p>Oikawa sniffles. "I thought I wanted glory, fame, but why is there so much blood? When I close my eyes, all I see is the red of innocence, all I taste is metallic pain."</p><p>"You're a good person, Oikawa," Iwaizumi tugs him closer, curled into each other on their bed. "You're doing the best you can."</p><p>"All I want… All I want is peace. What's glory in the face of grief? I just want everyone to be happy, to be safe."</p><p>They fall silent, thinking about the red staining both their hands.</p><p>"…Do you think my mother would cry if she saw what I've become?"</p><p>"No. She would never. You'll always be her pride and joy."</p><p>"Hah. I don't think I'm worthy of that title anymore."</p><p>"It's okay, Tooru. You're doing the best you can."</p><p>"I just want to go <em>home</em>." His voice cracks. "And because of me, so many lives have been destroyed. So many families ripped apart."</p><p>"No. It's not your fault. It's Paris's fault, for stealing Kiyoko. It's Troy's fault, for not returning her. Sawamura's fault, for starting the war. Ushijima and Kuroo's fault, for dragging us into this."</p><p>"You can't really believe that, Iwa-chan."</p><p>"No, but we have to. Tell that to yourself until you believe it. It's the only way you and your fragile heart will survive."</p><p>===</p><p>"Ushijima."</p><p>"Oikawa. Achilles. Using my actual name? This must be serious."</p><p>"I'm sure you've heard about the raid."</p><p>"Mmm."</p><p>"If any of your men, if any of the Greeks, lay a hand where they're not supposed to, if they overstep their bounds, I will kill them."</p><p>"Oikawa-"</p><p>"Watch me. Consider this a warning."</p><p>"Yes. They will be informed."</p><p>"Thank you."</p><p>===</p><p>Battle aftermaths are always hard for Oikawa now. He curls into himself on his chair, head buried on his hands. He's trembling almost unnoticeably. Iwaizumi rests a hand between his shoulder blades, feeling helpless.</p><p>The heavy cloth door rasps open. A timid female voice sounds. “...Oikawa-san?”</p><p>Iwaizumi turns, one hand still on Oikawa’s back. Oikawa remains as he is, head bowed, slumped in the corner, a far cry from the great Achilles. Today’s serving girl is petite and shy, her blonde hair hiding her face. Iwaizumi beckons for her to come in, taking the tray from her hands. She curtsies quickly and relinquishes it. "Hi, um, I'm Yachi Hitoka, and I'll be your serving girl for the next few days."</p><p>“Who was it for you?"</p><p>The tiny girl blinks. "…I'm sorry?"</p><p>"Which one of your loved ones did I kill.” Oikawa’s voice is devoid of emotion, his back still turned. After many rotations of serving girls, all too angry and full of grief to mind their mouth, he’s resorted to just opening with this line. <em>Let's just get it out of the way.</em> Iwaizumi’s hand tightens on his shoulder, his heart sinking. Oikawa can't take the serving girls' hatred. He's trying to save his people, and he can't acknowledge that his enemies are people too. He's acknowledging it, and he's shattering slowly.</p><p>"It was my father. One of the orange ones killed my sister." Her voice is quiet, steady, like her hands as she moves about the tent putting it into order. Iwaizumi shakes his head and she stops, picking up a torn tunic and pulling out a needle and thread.</p><p>Iwaizumi can feel Oikawa somehow tense and melt at the same time, curling into himself. "I'm sorry."</p><p>"Don't be. My sister wasn't your fault. Besides, he was terrible." She smiles softly. "Being a slave can't be much worse than being his daughter."</p><p>Oikawa looks up at that. "He hurt you?"</p><p>She shrugs limply. "It doesn't matter anymore. He's dead, and I'm here."</p><p>"Yachi, you know… some of the Greeks will be cruel masters. They won't treat you well."</p><p>"Can't be worse than him. Youth and luck saved me from the same fate as my sister, but I'm still undecided if this fate is worse."</p><p>Iwaizumi's heart aches for her, for Oikawa staring wide-eyed and unseeing at her. A tear drips off his chin.</p><p>"Achilles, when you pick a slave girl, please treat them well."</p><p>Yachi brushes her platinum hair out of her eyes and smiles.</p><p>She's beautiful.</p><p>Pity for him he's not interested. Well, when he says pity for him… he really means lucky for her.</p><p>Iwaizumi nods, dismissing her. She curtsies neatly and leaves. Oikawa turns away, burying his face into Iwaizumi's shoulder.</p><p>===</p><p>After the week's raids are over, it's time to divide the spoils. Monetary spoils are divided up quickly enough, each general taking his share and dividing the rest up among the men. The real trouble comes with the girls.</p><p>Girls, ranging from fifteen to twenty-nine, are lined up across the field, in order of age. Any younger, they're killed. Older, they're set to work as slaves to do servant work and healers. Within this age range, they get to keep their lives, but not their dignity. They will be chosen by the soldiers as bedwarmers, companions, personal slaves.</p><p>Dressed in rags, they're a sight to see. Some of them are crying. Some of them stand with their chin held high, desperately being strong and proud. Some of them merely stand in a daze, fiddling with their shackles, staring off into space.</p><p>Iwaizumi recognizes the glow of blonde hair, the gentle lines and slight frame of Yachi Hitoka. She stands at the young end of the line, barely seventeen. What catches his attention is that unlike the others, who cry and glare and display themselves, Yachi is desperately comforting the tiny girl next to her, a slip of a girl around fifteen, sobbing into her hair. Iwaizumi's heart warms even if it aches.</p><p>"Oi, Tooru."</p><p>"Yeaahhh, Iwa-chan?"</p><p>Iwaizumi jerks his head towards the duo. "Look."</p><p>Oikawa's eyes brighten. "Oh, it's Yacchan!" Just as fast, they dull as he remembers what they're here for. "…Oh no."</p><p>"…Can we pick both of them?"</p><p>Oikawa hesitates. "I…"</p><p>He scowls. "Come on, Trashykawa."</p><p>"I'm not interested in women…? Iwa-chan?"</p><p>Iwaizumi smacks him. "Not to bed, to protect! Look!"</p><p>Around them, men are starting to mutter, their eyes falling on Yachi Hitoka, beautiful, slender, young. Yachi Hitoka, with a soul glowing and strong, with a voice soothing and musical. Yachi Hitoka, a girl snatched from her home at five, ripped from a village at seventeen, put up for sale like a slab of meat.</p><p>Oikawa's eyes narrow.</p><p>Kuroo is frowning, body tense, fingering his knives. He leans over, whispering to Daichi frantically. From the corner of his eye, he can see a bright blur of orange, Hinata yelling in Kageyama's face. Kageyama sighs, pushing him away, and is rewarded with a punch to the gut.</p><p>Ushijima claps twice. "Alright, now it's time to pick the rest of the… spoils. Are there any outstanding warriors who have a preference?"</p><p>A swirl of black cloaks and he steps forward. "Kageyama Tobio. I would like to claim number 2, Yachi Hitoka."</p><p>"Not so fast." A tall strapping man pushes through, blowing his black hair out of his eyes. "Tokashiki Enji, from Hinokoku. I claim seniority, Kageyama. I outrank you." He looks over at Yachi, almost salivating, and leers. "I'll be having a lot of fun with this one. Much better than the other blonde I killed."</p><p>Yachi stiffens.</p><p>"Ah~ Enji-chan! As Achilles, shouldn't I have first pick?" In a heartbeat, Oikawa is striding across the field, his shimmering facade fixed in place. He smiles dazzlingly at Enji, who scowls and lowers his head in deference. "Well, no matter. I outrank both you <em>and</em> Tobio! So I guess Yacchan is going home with me, if that's alright with Ushiwaka?"</p><p>Ushijima recognises the glint in his eyes, agrees with his disgust for Tokashiki Enji. He nods.</p><p>Oikawa claps his hands almost giddily, beaming. Iwaizumi is the only one who sees the strain in the corners of his eyes. "Yay~ Come, Yachi, we're going to have so much fun!" He lets his eyes half-shutter and lowers his voice to a purr. "I'm going to be showing you a lot of new things, so be prepared." He wraps his fingers loosely around his wrist, and the wrist of the maiden next to her. "Oh, I'll take this one too. Iwa-chan needs a little friend too!"</p><p>Enji scowls at him, hand on his sword. Oikawa's lips curve, and he raises one eyebrow in preparation for a challenge. It never comes. "Thank you for being so gracious, Enji-chan!" A girl in each hand, he strides back across the field towards Iwaizumi.</p><p>Iwaizumi clears his throat. "The Achilles and I will be… retiring… for now. By your leave."</p><p>As the four of them make their way across the field to hoots and hollers and murmurs, Kuroo catches Oikawa's eye and nods. <em>Good job.</em></p><p><br/>
</p><p>As soon as they step foot into the tent, Iwaizumi locks the door and Oikawa pulls out a knife, immediately cutting away the bonds. As soon as the ropes fall away, the younger girl pitches herself into Yachi's arms, trembling. Guilt wells in Iwaizumi's heart at the sight, at the fiercely defensive look on Yachi's face, at the way she holds herself, ready for a fight.</p><p>He drops his sword, raising both hands into the air. "Hey, it's alright. You're safe here. No one's going to hurt you."</p><p>Yachi's lip trembles and she remains silent.</p><p>Oikawa walks towards them, holding two folded wool tunics and a neatly wrapped box of food. The younger looks up at the sound of footsteps, her eyes widening as they see Oikawa. She buries her face deeper into Yachi's lap, shaking like a leaf in the wind. Oikawa stops, stricken.</p><p>Iwaizumi lays a hand on his back, taking the items from his hands. "It's alright. I'll take care of this."</p><p>He nods mechanically, picking up his spear and walking out of the tent.</p><p>===</p><p>The spear slams through rock, embedding itself into the boulder. Oikawa yanks it free with a growl, turning whip fast and pitching it again. It pierces straight through the tree trunk, emerging from the other side. He marches over, wrenching at the stuck shaft.</p><p>"Stupid… fucking… spear!"</p><p>"Oikawa-san."</p><p>He whirls around, weapon forgotten. Kageyama stands in the grove, still armored in orange bronze and obsidian, hands fisted by his side. His eyes are cold fire, burning blue with anger.</p><p>"Tobio-chan. How may I help you?"</p><p>"You picked Yachi to be your camp-girl in the assembly."</p><p>"Well, yes. You were there."</p><p>"<em>Why?</em>" His voice cracks.</p><p>Oikawa tilts his head to the side. "…I'm sorry?"</p><p>"Why did you take her? She's so young. She's even younger than I am, Oikawa-san. You can't possibly want an actual child to warm your bed. And her friend, she's barely flowered. How can Iwaizumi-san do such a thing?"</p><p>"Hah," Oikawa exhales, bringing a hand up to cover his face. "Tobio, you naïve pure thing."</p><p>"Pure, yes, purer than you." Kageyama steps stiffly towards him. "I was going to take her in. I would have protected her, I wouldn't have touched her."</p><p>"You? And what about Enji? He does outrank you. What were you going to do?"</p><p>The younger hesitates. "I… I would have applied to Ushijima-san. I asked first. Hinata and I both agreed."</p><p>Oikawa tips his head, looking at him down the length of his nose. "Tobio-chan, both you and Chibi-chan are young. Inexperienced. Low-ranked members. Of the Flightless Crows, yes, but low-ranked nonetheless. You're smart enough to recognise the limits of your power, no?"</p><p>He grits his teeth. "And what, you're better?"</p><p>Oikawa smiles. "Yes."</p><p>Bending over, he wrenches the spear free, hair glowing bronze for a split second. Kageyama's blue eyes widen.</p><p>"I'm the Achilles. Best of men, Champion of the Gods and the Greeks." Oikawa walks closer, spear in hand, hair a bronze halo around his head. "The only one who comes close to outranking me is Ushijima, and he likes his women full bodied and the same age as he is. Don't you think that I can protect Yachi and her friend better than you?"</p><p>Kageyama deflates. "I'm sorry, Oikawa-san."</p><p>He smiles softly. "You're a great fighter, and also a good man." Kageyama's eyebrows shoot up. "Why were you so worried?"</p><p>"I thought… I thought you were serious about what you said."</p><p>Oikawa laughs, full bodied and deep. "Tobio, you oblivious child, why did you offer to take her in? She would have been wary of you, a young and able bodied warrior with a hearty appetite."</p><p>He flushes, looking away. "Oikawa-san, I'm not interested in women."</p><p>"What a coincidence," Oikawa calls as he strides away. "Neither am I."</p><p>===</p><p>They sneak Yachi's friend away from Troy. Oikawa writes to Yahaba with an apology and a request to take care of the fifteen year old, and Yahaba sends a small ship and his sisters as an escort. They sneak her, and others they take in, away to the Yahabas. Kuroo takes in the youngest and sends them away with him as well, and they cover up with tales of drownings, suicides, accidents. Later, Daichi blatantly sends his to Karasuno to be Crow Maidens. They send the girls away, and they're not questioned.</p><p>Oikawa and Iwaizumi gain a reputation for a hearty appetite. After every raid, Oikawa picks the youngest ones, the most vulnerable, and sneaks them away.</p><p>They're trying their best to save the innocents.</p><p>Yachi slowly grows to trust them. It helps that she walks in on them in bed once, turning bright red and fleeing with a squeal. After that, she's less on edge. She lets Iwaizumi teach her basic healing, she learns to cook their favourite foods, learns the basics of self-defense from Oikawa. She gains a reputation for being beautiful and capable and untouchable.</p><p>The raids continue.</p><p>Oikawa comes back from a raid alone, eyes bloodshot and hair straggly, and flops facedown onto the bed. He stays there for the whole day, unmoving, his hair glowing brightly bronze. The sun sets, and Iwaizumi is still at the healers tent, and Oikawa's skin is flushed red and steaming slightly.</p><p>"I was just wondering… Achilles… are you alright?" Yachi stutters slightly over the words, blushing. "I don't mean to overstep, but-"</p><p>"Hnghd."</p><p>"Achilles?"</p><p>He lifts his head and glares at her weakly. "No. In here, I'm Oikawa Tooru, not Achilles. Oikawa is fine. Or, heck, Tooru, why not."</p><p>Yachi nervously hiccups. "Oikawa Tooru-san, are you alright?"</p><p>"No, not really."</p><p>Yachi gently rolls him onto his back. Oikawa is bone white, but his cheeks are burning red, the brown of his pupils bright gold. She rests her hand against his forehead, snatching it away as soon as it touches. He's literally burning up, hotter than a human should be able to be. Her fingertips are blister-red where they touched him. Carefully, maneuvering around his blankets and his tunic, Yachi helps him into a sitting position.</p><p>"Here, Oikawa-san. Drink something."</p><p>The water sizzles as it passes his lips, and he coughs, choking. "Can't."</p><p>Yachi wrings out a washcloth and sets it on his forehead. His head falls backwards, leaning against the wall. "Where's Iwa-chan?"</p><p>"Iwaizumi-san is helping at the healers'. Today's raid was hard on the troops. Apparently, they had a militia."</p><p>"Mm. I was there." Oikawa's hair is still bronze, glowing brighter and brighter with every minute.</p><p>"Oikawa-san, are you sure you're alright?"</p><p>The door opens, and Oikawa drags himself upright, wavering on his feet. Iwaizumi walks through the door, exhaustion in every line. He looks up, and he</p><p>"Hades, Tooru, what happened?"</p><p>Oikawa smiles deliriously, swaying on his feet. "Iwa-chan! Welcome home!"</p><p>Iwaizumi's arm is around him in seconds, trying to lead him back to bed. Oikawa stubbornly plants his feet in the middle of the room. "Where were you during today's raids?"</p><p>"Huh? Healer Itsuki thought that we should stock up on herbs and reorganize the hut for higher efficiency. Thank Apollo we did, today was a hard raid. But gods, what happened to you?"</p><p>"Hah. A hard raid, huh? Hajime, you know better than most how divinity burns through people. Sorry, <em>Patroclus</em>, that my lack of a human anchor overexerted me."</p><p>"Tooru, you're burning up, you don't know what you're saying. Wait, how are you still in full Achilles state?"</p><p>"At least Yachi cared enough to come check up on me," Oikawa shouts, hands curling into fists. "The only time I see you anymore is when you're sleeping, or on the battlefield. We're <em>philtatos,</em> gods, we're more than that! You're never with me anymore!"</p><p>"Gods, Oikawa, don't be selfish! Those soldiers are dying, not everyone can be invincible like you."</p><p>"Invincible, huh?" Oikawa laughs dryly. Then his golden eyes roll backwards in his head and he collapses, boneless. Iwaizumi lunges for him, arms outstretched.</p><p>"<em>Tooru!</em>"</p><p><em>Hmm,</em> Yachi's brain notes almost disinterestedly. <em>Iwaizumi's hands don't burn where they touch his skin.</em> In fact, the redness is receding from his fair skin where Iwaizumi's tanned hands rest. Iwaizumi scoops him up, sitting down on the bed and setting him in his lap. Oikawa snuffles and burrows into his arms.</p><p>"Oh, Tooru. I'm sorry. You had a hard day, huh?" Oikawa nods wordlessly, arms tightening around his torso. Iwaizumi hums softly, finger-combing his tangled hair. Almost agonizingly slow, the bronze fades back to brown. Oikawa sighs, going limp in his arms.</p><p>"I'm sorry, Iwa-chan. I shouldn't have snapped."</p><p>"That's okay. I should have been there." He presses a soft kiss to Oikawa's forehead.</p><p>Yachi curtsies blindly and backs out of the tent before she sees anything else.</p><p>===</p><p>The letter comes on vellum sealed with wax. His mother is dead.</p><p>Oikawa locks himself in his tent for a week. When he finally emerges, his eyes are puffy and bloodshot. He no longer wears the girdle into battle.</p><p>Somehow, in the midst of war, in the midst of a food shortage, Iwaizumi manages to make his mother's milk bread. Oikawa cries himself to sleep in his arms that day, exhausted and grieving.</p><p>(Iwaizumi wonders about his own mother. Whatever. It no longer matters.)</p><p>===</p><p>They lie side by side on the bed in the tent.</p><p>"Iwa-chan."</p><p>"Hmm?"</p><p>"The war will be over soon, right?"</p><p>"Of course. You're the Achilles, on our side. How could we lose?"</p><p>"Yacchan is going to love Seijoh."</p><p>"We've really just taken her in as a sister, haven't we?"</p><p>"It's the least we could do."</p><p>"Do you ever feel like we lost our childhood to training, to war?"</p><p>"Really, Hajime?"</p><p>"It's just. Don't you ever feel like a weapon, like a chess piece of the gods? Don't you wonder what it would have been like if we were just normal?"</p><p>"Well, we'd probably be amongst the foot soldiers, still in a war. It's okay, Iwa-chan. I have you to remind me I'm human, don't I?"</p><p>"Hah. The war will be over soon. I can't wait to sneak out to the beach with you and look at the stars."</p><p>"And then we can live out our days in glory. Rule Aoba Johsai with a fair hand. Watch Kuroo stumble through his vows to Kenma, snicker at how whipped he is."</p><p>"Hey, Tooru."</p><p>"Mm?"</p><p>"When we get back, do you want to get married?"</p><p>"'Course." Oikawa smiles at him, eyes soft. "Apart from you, who else would there be for me?"</p><p>Iwaizumi presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "We'll be home soon."</p><p>"I can't wait."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I've only just started the Illiad and thus this story is going to be greatly focused on like. The Core of the Achilles story? But of course tweaked.</p><p>Disclaimer: slavery is bad! However Briseis (Yachi) is an important part of the myth and while I will be tweaking her role I do need her and Oiks to be friends but I do not condone slavery. (Did anyone catch my very minor OC very slightly inspired by Endeavour aka piece of trash)</p><p>Kudos greatly appreciated and major angst next chapter who else is excited!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. death</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <em>Remember the pact of our youth, where you go I'm going… since there is no me without you   ― Achilles Come Down, Gang Of Youths</em>
</p><p>A trick that ends in death, and the world burns down.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>HERE IT IS. THE ACHILLES ANGST. The parts I wrote first and built the whole story around!<br/>Warning: death, grief, EXTREME angst!!</p><p>Me: I just want these boys to be happy!<br/>Also me: time for <em>p a i n</em></p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Kageyama spits out a mouthful of blood and swipes his hand across his face, smearing it red. On unsteady feet, he stands and heaves his sword once more. "Paris, you coward. You hide behind your enslaved bride, behind the goddess you kidnapped."</p><p>Paris laughs brightly, shielded by Aphrodite, golden and untouchable. "King of the court and you still fail to win?" He walks towards him, still fresh and unexhausted. Kageyama launches himself towards him on unstable legs, but with a gentle push, he has him on his knees. "Perhaps your crown will be one more thing I steal."</p><p>Kageyama snarls and slashes wildly at him.</p><p>The blade bounces off his glowing skin, and Paris throws back his head and cackles. "Right here, right now, I am invincible. You have lost. Accept your defeat, and we accept your surrender." He turns to leave, and-</p><p>"Then finish me." His voice is quiet and raspy. Kageyama bows his head, and holds the sword out to Paris, hilt first. "Strike a fatal blow. Cut off my head. Kill me, acknowledge your victory, and end the war."</p><p>Paris freezes like a deer in headlights. No one moves a single inch. Slowly, he turns to face him, naked fear suddenly visible in his face.</p><p>Kageyama's mouth quirks up in a cruel grin. "Go on then, Prince Paris. Finish it. I've always wanted to die in combat."</p><p>Gingerly, Paris takes the sword from his hand, faltering slightly under the unusual balance of it. He takes a deep breath and lifts it, resting the tip of the blade against his carotid. Kageyama is locked still, not even an eyelash fluttering. The point digs into his throat, and he tilts his head back, letting his eyes fall shut.</p><p>The sword falls to the packed earth with a clang.</p><p>Paris draws a shuddering breath, running a hand through his hair.</p><p>Kageyama laughs, a harsh scraping sound. "You can't, can you? You can't take a single life. Even if it means saving the lives of thousands of others. Your world in the balance, and you can't kill a single man."</p><p>The golden haze around him shatters and falls away with the tinkling of wind chimes. Without it, Paris looks undoubtedly human, weak and pale next to the bloody, battered form of Kageyama.</p><p>Kageyama stands, drawing himself to his full height. He stares down his nose at Paris. Paris stares back, eyes wide and defiant, legs trembling. Kageyama lifts the sword and points it at Paris. "Take heed, Prince of Troy. Because of your weakness, because of your cowardice, thousands more will fall in this war you started. And every single one of these lives will be on your head."</p><p>For a moment, Kageyama is adorned with a flowing red cloak and a golden crown. <em>The King of the Court</em>. His eyes are blue and piercing, and Paris cannot look away.</p><p>Kageyama lowers the sword and limps off the battlefield. Paris watches him go, and thinks to himself: <em>Today, I have made an enemy. Today, I have made a grave mistake.</em></p><p>===</p><p>The story is different this time.</p><p>Ushijima Wakatoshi does not steal Oikawa's prize, nor does he demand one of his wards. Ushijima is a fair general, blunt and understanding, and the plague does not befall them.</p><p>Kageyama Tobio, king of the court, champion of Karasuno, still meets Paris in one to one combat. Kageyama's skills are beyond the limits of a normal warrior, but Lady Aphrodite keeps her promises, no matter how much she doesn't want to. Neither of them win.</p><p>Ushijima is a kinder and fairer man than Agamemnon, and in this story the Achilles is never shunned, never wronged, never holds a grudge. Oikawa gets a fair say in the proceedings. It is agreed that they will send a troop of Shiratorizawan men, the strongest in the armies, to negotiate a peace with the Trojans.</p><p>The Trojans send them back in chains with the corpse of an eagle and a demand for Seijoh, for the best of men.</p><p>
  <em>Prince Hector demands the Achilles as an envoy if the Greeks ever want peace.</em>
</p><p>Iwaizumi feels a chill run down his back.</p><p>
  <em> "Promise me you won't fight Hector, okay?"</em>
</p><p>Oikawa laughs, clear and bright. "Ah, the Trojans are so daring! Almost as foolishly proud as you, Ushiwaka. Of course, I'm not wasting my energy on them, so the question is: Who do we send?"</p><p>
  <em>"If the time comes, I'll fight him for you."</em>
</p><p>Iwaizumi slams his palms against the table and stands. All eyes in the room turn to him. "They want the best of Seijoh? I'll go."</p><p>Kuroo snorts. "With all due respect, <em>Iwa-chan</em>, what have you got on Oikawa? Send in the best of the best, and let the rest play out."</p><p>The room is suddenly freezing. Oikawa's eyes glint like steel. "Me, the best of men? You must be mistaken. No matter how good I am, Iwaizumi has always been a better man, and always will be. Keep his name out of your mouth."</p><p>Kuroo sees the chill in his eyes, sees the warrior who took down Ushijima for the title of Achilles, sees the knife-sharp edge of his smile. He swallows and bows his head, backing away.</p><p>Ushijima claps loudly, dissipating the tension. "Then it is decided. We'll send Iwaizumi as a peace envoy, to lay out the terms of the peace treaty we're willing to negotiate. Is it decided?"</p><p>The men gathered in the room nod.</p><p>Oikawa pulls Iwaizumi aside as they leave the tent. "Iwa-chan, with me for a second."</p><p>Iwaizumi follows him to their tent, where Oikawa is already rummaging around for something, leaving things haphazardly tossed around the room. "What're you doing, dumbass? You're going to make a huge mess."</p><p>Oikawa triumphantly holds out a silver breastplate and thrusts it at Iwaizumi. He then adds more pieces of armour to the pile in his arms. Iwaizumi blinks at the weight, then stares at Oikawa. "Have you lost your mind?"</p><p>Oikawa is already moving to help him put them on. "Iwa-chan, no way I'm letting you go out there without being completely and properly protected. You might be the best of men in my eyes, but you're hardly actually invincible."</p><p>Iwaizumi tosses the armor aside with a crash. "Oikawa, if you want this ruse to work, I'm going to have to dress as you. You know, tunic, circlet, silver mesh?"</p><p>Oikawa pouts, his forehead creasing with worry. "Iwa-chan, I just want to keep you safe. My 'armour' only serves as decoration. The Styx blessing protects me. You, however, are fragile and mortal and very, very human."</p><p>Iwaizumi smiles gently at him. "I know. But peace comes first now, and we need me to be able to pull this off. So go on, adorn me in your finery."</p><p>Oikawa gently fastens the girdle of silver around him, and does up the back of his tunic. Carefully, he ties his white ribbons around Iwaizumi's neck, a delicate choker. Once he's done, Iwaizumi pulls him close and buries his face in his long silky locks, resting his chin on Oikawa's shoulder. "You know I love you, right?"</p><p>Oikawa twists around and covers his mouth with his own in a slow, languid kiss. "Always and forever."</p><p>The girdle sits almost perfectly around his waist. The ribbons shine white in his peripheral. He carries Oikawa with him as he goes, and he's going to carry him when he returns.</p><p>Iwaizumi straightens his armour and picks up Oikawa's spear. "Alright then. Let's go."</p><p>===</p><p>The two armies stand face to face under the overcast skies, against the backdrops of gray city walls and dark forest. In the clearing between them sits Hector, his hand resting on the pommel of his sword. His eyes flicker over the assembled men, and clears his throat. "So, where is the famed champion of the gods? The legendary best of men? Are the mighty Greeks too cowardly to even send their Achilles to face me?"</p><p>Disgruntled muttering spreads through both sides. Hector smirks, tossing his head. The seeds of doubt in the Achilles have been sown. Then, suddenly, like clouds parting for the sun, Hector sees him</p><p>The crowd parts reverently as Iwaizumi strides out. He's decked in finery, a silken chiton and silver sandals. A delicate silver girdle encircles his waist, emphasizing his broad shoulders. In one hand he holds Oikawa's golden spear, and in the other, he holds a scroll. His arms glow gold in the sun, and his head is held high. He stops before Hector, the ends of the ribbons fluttering in the wind, and holds out the scroll. "My name is Iwaizumi Hajime, and I represent Seijoh. On behalf of the Greeks, I bring a message of peace, and the terms of the treaty."</p><p>Hector inclines his head, "Well met. It is my honour to deal with the best of men," and takes the scroll, opening it. His eyes flicker over the words. The whole world holds their breath.</p><p>Hector looks up at Iwaizumi, brows furrowed. "Is this a joke?"</p><p>"…I'm sorry?"</p><p>"Returning Paris's bride and paying for the burial of your dead? Offering you spoils of war and building a shrine to your pantheon? Do you mock us?"</p><p>"Prince Hector, Lady Shimizu is meant for the Gods. It would be sacrilege for her to marry outside of the kingdom. As for the reparations, we are willing to pay for the rites of your dead in turn, as well as set up a trade alli-"</p><p>Hector laughs, an ugly jagged sound. "Lady Aphrodite promised my brother a bride in exchange for gifts. He wasn't pleased with the one she chose, so he took one for himself. We care not for your false pagan gods. What power do they have over us? As for reparations, you laugh in our faces. You are at least to pay for the military spending of the siege campaign, as well as agricultural loss from your ruining of the lands."</p><p>"Hector," says Iwaizumi, fighting to keep his face calm. "We simply do not have the funds. Neither side is interested in prolonging the war, and this is the fairest treaty we can offer."</p><p>Hector throws the treaty on the ground and grinds it into the ground under his heel. The crowds inhale as a whole, and Iwaizumi feels his back tense. "This treaty is a joke. Prolonging the war? Fine. Since my coward brother is unable to bring honor and victory to Troy, perhaps I shall try my hand against the Achilles. Victory for the end of the war. I challenge the Champion of the Greeks to single combat."</p><p>Iwaizumi stops breathing.</p><p>"Wait," Kuroo's eyes are suddenly wide with panic, darting towards Ushijima. "Who said anything about single combat?"</p><p>Hector grins, all sharp shark teeth. "The best of men here? In front of me? Of course I'll challenge him to single combat. See who the strongest really is. Then the war will be over, no?"</p><p>Ushijima steps towards him, hand outstretched. "Hector, perhaps we should leave this for another time."</p><p>"Nonsense!" Hector draws his sword with a manic laugh. "I've heard that your champion is invulnerable except for in one spot. How long, I wonder, can we last against each other?"</p><p>Iwaizumi's face is as pale as his knuckles, tightly gripping the spear. <em>But peace comes first now, and we need me to be able to pull this off.</em> He swallows, steeling himself. His lips move quickly, soundlessly, a prayer and a name, and nods, eyes hard. "I accept your challenge."</p><p>"Iwaizumi, wait-" Ushijima moves towards him, but it's too late. Hector rushes at him with a whoop, and in a blur of movement too fast to see, stabs his sword straight through his stomach. He doesn’t even have time to scream. Iwaizumi's face drains paper-white and he falls to the ground, hands pressed against his abdomen.</p><p>"Oho?" Hector grins. "Not so invulnerable after all! Unless…" his eyes narrow. "You've brought me a fake."</p><p>Iwaizumi laughs weakly, and spits blood in his face. "You'll never face Oikawa, much less win against him. He's worth a hundred of you."</p><p>With a scream of rage, Hector brings down his sword on him again. And again. And again. And-</p><p>Ushijima blocks the sword with his own. "Enough! If you're going to fight, fight me, the general. There is no honour in fighting a downed man."</p><p>Hector snarls at him. "You speak of honour? You bring shame to your country. You send a treaty of ridiculous claims, accompanied by falsehoods, and a false champion? Go home and mourn your dead, Ushijima Wakatoshi. We'll meet on the battlefield. This war is far from over." His sword cuts cleanly through the silver girdle, parting the flesh underneath. Iwaizumi's back arcs up, eyes flying wide. Hector sneers, snatching up his trophy, and stalks back towards his army.</p><p>Kuroo is already by Iwaizumi's side, hands pressed to the wound. His eyes are round with fear as he grabs Ushijima's arm. "Ushijima, stop. There's no time to go in pursuit. Get Yachi. And Oikawa. Fast." Ushijima nods at Goshiki, who takes off running, weaving between soldiers as he makes his way towards the base.</p><p>Iwaizumi coughs, blood trickling out the corner of his mouth and staining the white ribbons bright red. "Come on, master of provocation. You're not blind. You know there's no hope."</p><p>Ushijima is kneeling next to Kuroo, desperately trying to staunch the bleeding with his cloak. "Iwaizumi-san, with all due respect, shut up. Save your strength."</p><p>Iwaizumi rasps out a laugh, and blood bubbles at his lips. "Not… much… strength… to save."</p><p>"<em>IWA-CHAN!</em>" The desperate scream rings out across the plains, and Oikawa Tooru almost flies, his feet barely touching the ground, hair loose and whipping about his face, racing against time to make it to Iwaizumi. He drops to his knees besides him, eyes wide and horrified. "Iwa-chan, oh my god, Hajime, there's- there's so much blood." He looks up to meet Ushijima and Kuroo's eyes. "How did this happen?"</p><p>Iwaizumi coughs again. "Not… their fault. Didn't see… combat challenge… coming."</p><p>"Then what use are you, Kuroo? One of the best strategists in the world and you don’t see this coming?" Oikawa is incandescently beautiful in his rage, his hair falling over his face and his eyes dark and almost glowing.</p><p>Kuroo swallows and looks away.</p><p>He sneers derisively. "Thought so."</p><p>Iwaizumi weakly raises his hand and tucks a strand of his hair behind his ear. "Tooru… not his fault…" Oikawa grabs it like a lifeline, tears streaming freely down his cheeks. "I love you… you'll remember that, right?"</p><p>"Hajime, please, don’t talk like that, please, just be quiet, save your strength, you're going to make it." Oikawa sobs. "Iwa-chan, you're going to make it, please, I need you, you can't die, please stay with me."</p><p>Iwaizumi strains his lips into a smile. He slowly lifts his shirt, exposing the wounds. Oikawa forces himself not to gag and looks away, muffling his sob with his hand. They've both seen enough battle, inflicted enough damage, to know what a wound like that means. Never had he ever thought that he would see it on Iwaizumi. "Hajime, no. This is all my fault. Gods above, no."</p><p>Iwaizumi's eyes are the dark green of the sea in winter. "Don't be a dumbass. Remember your promise I'll… wait for you. Love…"</p><p>His head lolls backwards and his grip on Oikawa's hand slacks. Blood slowly trickles down the side of his face from his mouth. Oikawa frantically shakes him. "Iwa-chan? Iwaizumi? Please, gods, no, <em>Hajime!</em>"</p><p>Iwaizumi's eyes are blank and unseeing, open at the desolate gray sky. Oikawa shoves his mouth against his, sobbing, desperate for a last kiss goodbye, but all he tastes is blood.</p><p>He's gone.</p><p>Oikawa clutches his body, a yell wrenching from his throat, his anguish splitting the sky.</p><p>There is a great <em>crack</em>. Rain pours down in sheets, dark torrents crashing down like bullets from above.</p><p>Was that the sound of thunder, or the sound of his heart? He doesn't know. All he knows is that Iwaizumi is dead. He's dead, he's gone, and Oikawa is alone.</p><p>He stays there, wrapped around Iwaizumi's body, two figures intertwined, indiscernible. He stays there, long after the rain stops, long after the sky clears, long after the blood washes off his hands and soaks into the ground.</p><p>===</p><p>
  <em>Achilles, crying tears of flame, backlit by the setting sun. Patroclus, dead in his arms. Briseis, following behind, helpless and forgotten. </em>
</p><p>It's sunset by the time Oikawa limps into camp, cradling Iwaizumi's body. No one dares meet his eyes. Patroclus, slain, and Achilles, heartbroken. There is only the sound of his harsh breathing, the sound of his footsteps, the sound of the corpse's limbs thudding against his body. Behind him, Yachi Hitoka follows soundlessly, face streaked with tears, carrying his spear.</p><p>Soundlessly, they enter his tent. On their bed, on <em>his</em> bed, his and his alone now, they lay out the corpse. With gentle hands they undress him, with wet rags and warm water they wash the blood from his face, his hair, his body. They wrap his wounds in white, tying them off neatly. With oil, they anoint his brow. They pour libations, they slip coins under his tongue and place them over his eyes, they comb back his hair as they try not to cry.</p><p>They peel the white sheet back from his face.</p><p>"Oikawa?" Yachi breaks their perfect silent harmony. "Will you write the identity for the dead?"</p><p>She holds out a brush. Oikawa takes it. With steady hands, in dark ink, along the sharp curve of his collarbones, Oikawa writes: <em>岩泉 一. Best of men, most beloved.</em> He looks up, eyes dark.</p><p>"That's all there is to it, isn't there?"</p><p>Silently, in perfect tandem, they wrap his head in white cloth, cover his body in a white shroud, light the white sage.</p><p>He walks out of the tent, bone white and trembling. The crowd parts before him.</p><p>Oikawa stands at the edge of the surf, the waves washing over his toes. The coast feels unfamiliar. The horizon is wrong, the sounds of the birds and the waves are wrong, the empty space beside him is wrong. Oikawa stands at the edge of the water, his hair burning bronze, his eyes burning gold. Oikawa stands at the edge of the ocean, the edge of the void, and lets himself <em>scream</em>.</p><p> </p><p>===</p><p>"Tooru."</p><p>"Iwa-chan?"</p><p>"Tooru. Remember your promise. Even after you avenge me. Remember our promise. You swore. Stay alive for me, Oikawa. Live a long and happy life."</p><p>"Hajime, how is it supposed to be happy without you?"</p><p>"I'll be waiting for you, by the gates of Elysium. I'll always be waiting."</p><p>"I can't do this without you, Iwa-chan. Please, I can't."</p><p>"I love you, Tooru. I'll see you again someday."</p><p>
  <em>"Put the knife down, Oikawa. You promised."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Walk away, Oikawa. Don’t do it."</em>
</p><p>"Stand down, Achilles. <em>Wake up.</em>"</p><p>Oikawa gasps awake to find himself on the edge of the cliffs.</p><p>===</p><p> </p><p>"Ushijima." Both Ushijima and Daichi look up from where they're poring over battle plans. The war does not stop for the death of one man, even if that man is the Patroclus.</p><p>Kuroo stands at the entrance of the tent, tense and jittery, his eyes flicking to something outside. "Ushijima, do you smell smoke?"</p><p>He pokes his head out of the tent. He does smell smoke, and he cranes his head, looking for the source. Behind him, Kuroo sucks in a breath sharply. "Ushiwaka, is that-"</p><p>Ushijima is already moving, grabbing his sword as he goes. Daichi follows him, and together the three make their way to the edge of the camp.</p><p>A light rain mists across the plains. The trio sees a plume of smoke rising from beyond the woods, an echo of screams, a lone figure crossing the plains.</p><p>"Is that…"</p><p>Daichi's mouth is set in a hard, firm line. "That's one of the Trojan border camps."</p><p>They watch in silence as the figure gets closer.</p><p>Oikawa's tunic is half singed and soaked red, and he smells strongly of blood and burning human flesh. His eyes are glowing gold, and his spear sparks with electricity. As the rain hits his skin, it sizzles and evaporates.</p><p>His bare feet track a trail of blood across the packed earth.</p><p>Ushijima moves to stop him. "Oikawa, what-"</p><p>"<em>move,</em>" Oikawa all but growls. Godly power crackles from him, and Ushijima feels his spine curve almost unwillingly. Wordlessly, he lets Kuroo pull him out of the way. Oikawa walks straight towards the funeral pyre, the pine wood soaked by the rain. The army parts before him like the Red Sea.</p><p>"A sacrifice to the gods!" Oikawa shouts, standing barefoot on the damp grass. "I offer a gift, to grant safe passageway. I offer the ground soaked with blood, for Hades to feast upon. I offer the wood of this pyre, watered with my tears, as a gift for Hestia's hearth. I offer the ashes of the enemy, to decorate Ares's chariot. I offer the lives of the enemy and their defeat, to please Athene, and I offer my blood, the blood of the Achilles. May the Furies feast on it and forgive his sins. May Iwaizumi Hajime, the best of men, find eternal peace in Elysium."</p><p>Lifting his spear high, he stabs it into his palm. A single trail of blood trickles down his arm, down the golden tip. It pools in his palm, and he lets it drip off his fingers onto the shroud. Bright red blooms across the white fabric, sizzling as it lands. There is a faint smell of cinnamon.</p><p>For a moment, he stares at the arc of Iwaizumi's nose where the bloodied cloth clings to it.</p><p>Then he turns and leaves, a bronze figure trailing blood.</p><p> </p><p>"Why have you summoned me here?" Oikawa looks like death warmed over. His hair is loose around his shoulders, a long tangled cape of brown, and the shadows under his eyes are almost as dark as his glare. Looking at the state of him, Ushijima feels the reprimand on his tongue dying away.</p><p>"I… wanted to offer my condolences. For Iwaizumi."</p><p>He blinks incredulously. "Your condolences."</p><p>"Iwaizumi served honorably. He was one of the best warriors I have met, and his death grieves me too."</p><p>"It grieves you." Oikawa repeats, his voice rising. "It <em>grieves</em> you."</p><p>Ushijima shuts his mouth with a click.</p><p>"It grieves you that he's dead? Are you even capable of feeling grief? Are you sure it's not just mild annoyance at losing a good fighter in the war? It <em>grieves</em> you, but grief is too weak a word for what I’m feeling now, Ushiwaka. My whole <em>world</em> has been torn apart, you self-centered <em>FUCKER</em>. It grieves you, but it's <em>your</em> fault."</p><p><em>"You."</em> Oikawa hisses, eyes narrowed at Ushijima. "You did this. You sent him, and you killed him. <em>You killed him!</em>"</p><p>Everyone has heard about how Ushijima Wakatoshi almost defeated Oikawa in the Achilles Tournament, both suffering almost disabling injuries. No one is prepared for Oikawa to lunge at Ushijima with nothing but his bare hands. No one is prepared for Oikawa to easily disarm him, forcing him to his knees, his own blade against his neck.</p><p>"<em>YOU KILLED HIM!</em>" Oikawa screams, pure raw agony evident in his voice. "<em>He's dead, and it's your fault!</em>"</p><p>Ushijima slowly raises his head. "Oikawa, I'm sorry. I didn't expect this to happen. I'm…"</p><p>"Is sorry going to bring Iwa-chan back?" Oikawa tilts his head to the side, his smile terrifyingly sharp, his eyes terrifyingly dull. "Do the gods favour you so much that a simple platitude can override the laws of nature?"</p><p>Ushijima stays silent. The blade presses further into his neck, and a drop of blood beads on the edge. Every Shiratorizawan soldier has a hand on their sword, but not a single person dares move. The sound of Oikawa's ragged panting fills the tent.</p><p>Kuroo enters the room, clenching a scroll so tightly the paper warps under his fingers. "A message from Hector."</p><p>Oikawa looks up, eyes dark and bloodshot.</p><p>"He wants us to surrender. Or to face the real champion in single combat."</p><p>Oikawa laughs, dark and crackling. "He wants to face me?" He tosses the blade down on the table, where it lands with a loud clang.</p><p>"He can have me."</p><p>He stands, tears flowing down his face, hair glowing gold, and makes his way out of the tent.</p><p> </p><p>===</p><p>
  <em>"Yacchan."</em>
</p><p>"Oikawa-san, I-"</p><p>"Yachi, I need- I need someone to braid my hair for battle."</p><p>"But I thought- Oh, Tooru. I'm so sorry."</p><p>"So am I."</p><p>Yachi Hitoka's hands are slender and small and her fingers are cold and gentle as she weaves his hair into a crown.</p><p>"Tooru, If you face Hector, you're going to die."</p><p>
  <strong>Why should I kill Hector? What has he ever done to me?</strong>
</p><p>
  <em>"Do you think I want to live without Iwaizumi by my side?"</em>
</p><p>===</p><p> </p><p>The air crackles with thunder. Oikawa Tooru, best of men and favoured by the gods, strides out onto the campground, his hands clenched around a golden spear. He's not wearing armour, just a pair of greaves, a white knee brace, a Seijoh-green tunic. His famous hair is braided into a crown around his head and pulled back in a flowing ponytail, tied with long white ribbons.</p><p>They flutter in the wind, stained rust-red.</p><p>"<em>Hector!</em>" He screams, brandishing his spear, the spear Iwaizumi died too fast to use. The wind whips his hair about his face. The army parts before him, but he only has eyes for the opposing side. "<em>Hector, you coward, come out and face me!</em>"</p><p>The skies crash, and lighting illuminates him. His hair glows bronze. "<em>Come and face me, murderer!</em>"</p><p>A lone figure in golden armour strides out. He takes in the slender, pale figure of Oikawa and laughs. "So this is the famous Oikawa, the great Achilles!" Hector calls tauntingly. "<em>Tooru</em>, are you finally done hiding behind men twice your worth?"</p><p>Oikawa's hands tighten around the spear. "Shut up. Iwaizumi is worth more than a hundred of you."</p><p>Hector just cackles louder, arms outstretched as lightning splits the sky around them. "He said as much about you. And now he's dead! Don't I look good in his lovely girdle? Oh, sorry, no, isn't this <em>yours?</em>"</p><p>A gut-wrenching scream tears its way out of Oikawa's throat. "<em>Prince Hector of Troy!</em> Warrior, heir, <em>murderer.</em> Achilles challenges you to single combat."</p><p>Hector sheds his blue cloak in one smooth flourish and draws his sword. Across the field, his sharp teeth glint out from his smile. "I accept."</p><p>As soon as the words are out of his mouth, Oikawa is moving, running across the plain, white ribbons flying behind him, blood flaking off them. Hector whoops, falling into a stance and eyes narrowing in anticipation.</p><p>Oikawa coils up and throws his spear. It flies straight and true, arcing towards Hector like Artemis's arrow. He runs and leaps, sharp lines and predatory grace.</p><p>They say that Oikawa Tooru raced the winds themselves for the gods' favour. That he can outrun a peregrine falcon, that he can move faster than a man can die, that he can throw his spear, run alongside it, and catch it before it lands.</p><p>Oikawa almost hovers in the air, illuminated by lightning. His hands reach high and close around the shaft of his spear, and his eyes glow with unholy fire as he drives the spear straight through Hector's throat and into the ground.</p><p>Electricity arcs from the sky, through the spear. He doesn't even have time to scream. Hector is dead before he hits the ground.</p><p>The gods have spoken. And they have judged in favour of their champion.</p><p>Oikawa stands there, barely panting. "That was for Iwaizumi." He cuts the silver girdle off the burnt corpse, wiping off the blade on the side. Fresh blood soaks the already rust-dotted girdle as Oikawa plucks it off his corpse and, with a strip of red-stained blue ripped from Hector's cloak, ties it roughly around his thigh.  He draws a knife, cuts away his armor, and slowly, almost tenderly, carves the character for shame across his chest: 恥.</p><p>"And that one's just for me."</p><p>He stands, pushing back his hair. Blood streaks the bronze as it flutters in the wind.</p><p>"Citizens of Troy!" Oikawa is a supernova exploding, arms spread wide, his hair lit bronze and his skin glowing silver. "Your prince has fallen. Achilles is satisfied."</p><p>He throws his head back and laughs. Blood pours from the heavens, drenching the Trojans red.</p><p> </p><p>===</p><p>"Oikawa, you should not have taken Hector's body. There is no honour-"</p><p>"Good. An honourless death for an honourless man."</p><p>"The gods will-"</p><p>"The gods will not move until we win the war."</p><p>"Then the Trojans-"</p><p>"Let them come." His eyes glow silver in the low light. "Let them come. And I'll show them their prince, rotted through with death and dishonour. I'll show them the fury of the gods. Let them come, and I'll kill them all."</p><p>===</p><p> </p><p>The day of the funeral dawns dull and unassuming. The sun shines muted in the gray sky. Ushijima Wakatoshi stands with his head bowed in front of the pyre, ink stained hands flying across the wood as he completes the ritual. A soldier starts forward, torch in hand, and braces it against the frame.</p><p>"Wait."</p><p>The crowd parts with a murmur as Oikawa Tooru marches forward, donning a cloak of black over the same burnt tunic. His hair is dark bronze in the dawnlight and braided back in a messy tangle, threaded with the same bloodstained ribbon. He kneels before the funeral pyre, bloodshot eyes fixed on the shrouded corpse.</p><p>Iwaizumi's fingers carding through his hair, Iwaizumi's laugh as he tries to untangle it after the sea breeze, Iwaizumi gently braiding his hair out of his face for the tournament, Iwaizumi buying him ribbons and weaving them into his hair, Iwaizumi yanking on it as Oikawa tries to escape with his food, Iwaizumi brushing it out of his face against the sea breeze, Iwaizumi's hands in it as their lips meet.</p><p>Yachi's hands trembling as she braids his hair to face Hector.</p><p>
  <em>Iwaizumi is dead.</em>
</p><p>He picks up Iwaizumi's sword from where it lies on his shroud. The soldier holding the torch poorly disguises his flinch at the scraping sound of metal. He lifts it, the blade digging into his neck, and closes his eyes. Kuroo starts towards him, eyes wide with panic.</p><p>He exhales.</p><p>The blade slashes sideways. Someone screams.</p><p>Blood-matted bronze flutters to the ground, a single flash of white amongst the shine. He shakes out his hair, revelling in the lightness. The uneven ends flutter in the wind. Reverently, he places the blade back next to Iwaizumi's corpse. <em>A great warrior is always burned with his weapon.</em></p><p>He lays the braid across the body. As he turns away, the heavens crack open and water pours down. It drips off the tips of his shorn hair, it soaks the pyre. The soldier, shielding the torch with his body, braces it against the quickly soaked pyre. The flame flickers, shuddering against the damp wood, and the soldier turns to Ushijima, shaking his head.</p><p>Oikawa's footsteps stop, his shoulders tensing. His hands curl into fists, nails digging into his palm, and exhales slowly. Brown eyes glow gold, water-darkened hair lightening to bronze. With a crackle, Iwaizumi's pyre flares alight.</p><p>He doesn’t stay to watch it burn.</p><p>===</p><p>(In hushed voices behind the mess hall:</p><p>
  <em>"Iwaizumi Hajime's pyre burned. It was raining as hard as it was on the day Hector died, but his pyre burned hotter than any I'd seen before."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"The Achilles lit the pyre with his rage itself."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"The gods were pleased with the Achilles' offering. Why would it not burn?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"A great warrior has entered Elysium."</em>
</p><p>Inside the healer's tent:</p><p>
  <em>"What happens to the Achilles once the reminder of his mortality is gone?"</em>
</p><p><em>"…He becomes a god."</em>)</p><p>===</p><p>"Did you think I was about to follow my philtatos, like the oldest, most arcane traditions said? Because you knew I couldn't live without him?"</p><p>Kuroo stays silent.</p><p>Oikawa laughs, harsh and grating. "Don't worry. I promised him. Whoever goes first, the other won't follow. They'll live a long and fulfilling life. Alone. I'm not going to kill myself."</p><p>His eyes turn sad. "Of course, when we made that promise, I thought I would be the first to die."</p><p>===</p><p>Daichi kneels in front of him, head to the ground, gritting his teeth against the tears welling in his eyes. "Please, Achilles."</p><p>"Achilles this, Achilles that." Oikawa sighs, walking towards him. "Am I any more than a weapon for all of you? To aim where you please?"</p><p>"Oikawa, please. We can't win this war without you. Men are dying. Please. Karasuno will forever be in your debt."</p><p>He tilts his head up. "The only man I care about is dead."</p><p>Golden eyes meet brown, and both contain indescribable sorrow. "I'm sorry, Sawamura. I can't."</p><p>Sometimes, people forget that before he was Achilles, he was Iwaizumi's <em>philtatos.</em></p><p>===</p><p>Yachi runs her hand through her hair and takes a deep breath. Quietly, she pushes the canvas flap open and slips in.</p><p>"Oikawa?"</p><p>The tent is dark. Sunlight hasn't touched the inside, the door sitting undisturbed. Since the day of the funeral, no one has dared go inside, and no one has seen Oikawa come out. As she moves through the space, she leaves footprints in the layer of dust over the floor.</p><p>"Oikawa? Are you here?"</p><p>A raspy cough comes from the shadowy corner. Yachi feels her heart rate pick up and she nervously combs back her hair as she approaches. Straining her eyes, she can barely make out a lump huddled on a chair, covered by a blanket. Oikawa curls in on himself, curled around a golden urn. Iwaizumi's ashes. Gently, she sets a hand on his shoulder.</p><p>He flinches.</p><p>"Hey there, Tooru," she says, her voice soft. "I brought food."</p><p>"Yacchan."</p><p>"C'mon, Tooru." Her hand is tiny in his as she helps him stand, setting the urn on a chair, and leads him to the bench. "You have to eat something."</p><p>"Mmm."</p><p>They sit in silence, Yachi quietly unpacking a meal for Oikawa, Oikawa eating in silence, eyes trained on the table.</p><p>"How're you doing?" Her voice is almost unbearably gentle.</p><p>Oikawa huffs, lips curving into a dry smile. "How do you think?"</p><p>They lapse back into silence. The quiet is only punctuated by the sounds of Oikawa chewing and swallowing.</p><p>"You know, when I was training for the tournament, I promised Hajime. I said that when I was Achilles no one else would die."</p><p>He exhales shakily. "Everything I do is wrong. All these promises broken, and I can't bring myself to break the only one that matters, the one I made to Iwa-chan."</p><p>"Iwaizumi's ribbons. My mother's girdle. Both defiled by Hector, destroyed and stained and burned. Iwaizumi is dead, and Daichi begged me to fight, did you know? He begged me to fight, and under all the grief, all the anger I had for him, all I could think was <em>how can I? Who's going to braid my hair for battle?</em> He's gone, Yachi. He's gone, like my mother, and I never learned to braid my hair, never learned to make my mother's milk bread, and now the only two people who know how are dead."</p><p>He buries his head in his hands. "So I cut my hair. I could barely see with all of it in my face, you know? My mother named me for clarity, for foresight, for a pure and clear soul. How pure is my soul now? I have dishonoured the dead, I have killed innocents in the name of war, I have led Hajime to his death. I wasn't even there when she died. She died alone and suffering in her bed, without even her <em>son</em> by her side. Am I really fated for destruction, to be champion in nothing but name, to be a weapon in the hands of another? I'm a great warrior. But I'm not a good man."</p><p>He finally looks up at her, and Yachi <em>aches</em> at the look on his face.</p><p>"Yacchan." Oikawa rasps, eyes bloodshot and wet. "Why does everyone I love leave me?"</p><p>She doesn't know how to answer.</p><p>They sit in silence, two pairs of eyes filling with tears, two hearts screaming with grief for another. Quietly, Yachi reaches for his hand and twines his calloused fingers with hers. Oikawa falls still. Tentatively, she lets her head fall on his shoulder, lets herself lean against him. Slowly, almost unnoticeably, the tension leaks out of his shoulders. There's no sound in the tent except for their breathing, perfectly in sync, barely punctuated by the hitches in his.</p><p>Oikawa squeezes her hand. "My mother's girdle." It sits in a heap in the corner, bloodstained and torn. The silver threads still glint, the laces still remain.</p><p>"What about it?"</p><p>"Will you take it?" The fingers of his free hand tap nervously on the table.. "Bury it for me. Burn it for me. I never got to see my mother's funeral. Will you get rid of the last of her for me?"</p><p>Wordlessly, she stands, walking over to the heap. With barely-trembling hands, she picks up the stained girdle.</p><p>Outside, it's cacophony. Soldiers are returning from the most recent attack, their numbers noticeably less than when they set out.</p><p>Yachi whispers a prayer over the remains of a girdle, bowing her head and letting herself grieve for a woman she's never met, never known. Then, she seizes a torch from the nearest sconce, and lights it on fire. <em>Let your soul be at rest, Oikawa Thetis. Let your son's love for you be known. Let Iwaizumi meet you in Elysium, let him be taken care of by you. Let your son find peace in his soul.</em></p><p>She scatters the ashes across the last remaining patch of green grass, unstained by blood.</p><p>As she walks back to the tent, she sees the wounded being carried in on stretchers, the dead lined up in the fields. The healers are frantic, their long white frocks staining red in a heartbeat as they try to save the soldiers. Kageyama catches her eye from across the field, hunched over and pressing a cloth against a gaping back wound. He narrows his eyes, jerking his head at the chaos around him.</p><p>Her heart sinks.</p><p> </p><p>===</p><p>
  <em>"Yachi-san. Daichi's begged. Kuroo's begged. Is he not going to fight?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Not yet. He's grieving."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"We're all grieving. Our men are dying by day. We're going to lose the war, Yachi. He has to fight. It's his duty as the Achilles."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Oh, Tobio. Don't be so heartless. He's just lost his philtatos."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"And I don't want to lose mine."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"You admired him once. You still do. Give him time, Kageyama."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"…I'm sorry."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"So am I."</em>
</p><p>===</p><p> </p><p>"We need him!" Kuroo's face is red with rage as he screams. "For fuck's sake, Ushijima, we <em>need</em> him to win the war! You know full damn well we can't break the walls, did you not see how he took out a whole camp in a morning without us noticing?"</p><p>"What do you want me to do?" Ushijima yells back, hands fisted tightly. "What <em>can</em> I do? He clearly blames me for Iwaizumi's death! You think that I don't know that we need him? He's the gods-damned Achilles, of course we do! He's not going to listen unless I <em>beg.</em>"</p><p>"<em>THEN FUCKING BEG,</em>" Kuroo's fist slam down on the table. "You're the general. Men have died, thousands and thousands of men. And more will die! How many widows are you creating, Wakatoshi? How many families have you already torn apart? Worlds in the balance and you can't even beg one man!"</p><p>"I will not." Ushijima's tone carries a weight of finality. "I will not <em>beg</em> Oikawa Tooru like some dog, some weak mortal."</p><p>Kuroo's expression twists into something ugly and raw as he lunges at Ushijima. "You-"</p><p>"You are."</p><p>The two of them freeze as Daichi's deep voice rings out. He raises his head from where he sits in the shadowed corner, his eyes unreadable. "You are a mortal, Ushijima. Have you forgotten?" Setting down his whetstone, he tests his sword, checking its balance in his hand. "You're a mortal. You lost the tournament. Or have you forgotten?"</p><p>Kuroo lets himself breathe deeply. <em>Inhale, exhale.</em> "He's the Achilles, Ushijima. He's the best warrior, the best weapon we've got. We need him."</p><p>"You ask too much of me, Sawamura, Kuroo. I will not beg him."</p><p>Daichi stands, sword in hand, his gaze deadly as cold iron. "You sailed this army for me, Ushijima. It was supposed to be a short campaign. You sailed this army to help me, because you owe me, because you swore an oath, because you hold respect for Lady Kiyoko's honour. And yet we're no closer to winning. We've been here for <em>years</em>. This was supposed to be a quick campaign. I have a betrothed to get back to, Ushijima. Kuroo, a kingdom, a temple, an heir. You yourself have a kingdom!"</p><p>"<em>And that is precisely why I won't beg.</em>"</p><p>"Because you're a king." Daichi's eyes are ice, the sword steady and heavy in his grip.</p><p>"Because I have dignity, and I have power, and what else do I have if I don't keep those?"</p><p>"For fuck's sake!" Kuroo breaks in. "You're a king. You have dignity. So what? I'm a king. Daichi's a king. We've both begged, to no avail. <em>You're</em> the one that's wronged him. You think that position matters when there are lives at stake? You think we haven't all lost our dignity in the war? You think that the lives of your men, the time they spend here is worth your pride? I miss my home! I miss Kenma, and I miss Lev, and I don't even know if either of them are still alive, still safe! You know how dangerous Nekoma can get." He stands, crossing his arms.  "You know, for all you talk of Oikawa Tooru's worthless pride, you're no better. At least Oikawa had something he was willing to sacrifice for. You? Your pride is more worthless than his."</p><p>Daichi sheaths his sword with a clang. "I stand with Kuroo on this one. You'll risk death, but not 'dignity'? Don't make me laugh. If you don't beg? Anyone else who dies, that's on you. Because of your worthless pride, more will die. And that's on you and your dignity."</p><p>Kuroo tosses his circlet on the table. "We're leaving. We're going to fight. We're going to help get more men killed, all because of you. See you on the other side of today's battle, Ushijima Wakatoshi. I hope you're proud of yourself."</p><p>Ushijima stands alone in the tent, a lone marble statue, constant, unyielding.</p><p>
  <em>Worthless pride.</em>
</p><p>He makes up his mind.</p><p>===</p><p>"Well, this is an unexpected displeasure."</p><p>"Oikawa." Ushijima stands before Oikawa, blood drying on his face, soaked to the bone. It hasn't stopped raining since the funeral. One arm is bandaged in a sling, and the other rests on his sword. "Oikawa, we need you to win this war. You're the best fighter we have."</p><p>Oikawa Tooru sits on a crude throne of wood and stone, looking down on him. His mouth curves up into a smirk.</p><p>"Beg me, Ushiwaka." Oikawa's eyes are cruel and cold. "Fall on your knees and beg me, appeal to my worthless pride."</p><p>Ushijima Wakatoshi grits his teeth and slowly lowers himself to the ground. Gasps ring out from the surrounding soldiers. "Please, Oikawa," he whispers. "Please, <em>Achilles.</em> We cannot win the war without you. Haven't we all lost enough?"</p><p>Oikawa's fist strikes his armrest with a thundering crack and he flinches. The armrest splinters under the force, and he meets his eyes with trepidation. "You talk to me of loss? You, who sent Hajime to his death? I have already avenged him. My job here is done. Try harder, Ushijima. Beg me. Send me gifts and shed your blood, and if Achilles is feeling merciful, he will help you."</p><p><em>If Achilles is feeling merciful.</em> Not if Oikawa, but Achilles.</p><p><em>Achilles needs a Patroclus, a link to remind him he’s human, that he’s just mortal enough. Someone to stop him from wreaking havoc, from destroying the world.</em> And now Iwaizumi is dead.</p><p>Oikawa's laugh is high and shrill. "My worthless pride. My stubborn unbroken spirit. It's going to cost you the war."</p><p>The war is lost because of one man.</p><p>Ushijima Wakatoshi bows his head and leaves the room, limping and defeated.</p><p>Yachi Hitoka sits in the corner of the tent, unnoticed, feeling her heart break for the broken man sitting on the throne</p><p>---</p><p>Once Ushijima leaves, Achilles becomes Oikawa becomes Tooru once more, shrinking into his void of grief, curling into himself on his throne. Yachi approaches.</p><p>"Tooru."</p><p>"Hm?"</p><p>She hesitates. "The generals are scared. If you don't fight, they say they'll lose, that the Trojans will kill us all."</p><p>"I know."</p><p>"… Are you going to fight?"</p><p>He exhales. "I'm the Achilles. I have to be strong for the people, even if I can't be strong for myself. Absolve their grief, deliver them from sorrow. Take pride in my power, my strength, save my people. But I don't care anymore. I should be scared about that, but I don't care about that either. Ushijima Wakatoshi just prostrated himself at my feet, but I can't even bring myself to feel triumph."</p><p>A single tear slides down his cheek. "I don't care about their sorrows. I don't care about their petty wars."</p><p>"Oh, <em>Tooru.</em>"</p><p>He burrows his face into her shoulder. "I don't care about any of them. What do I do, Yachi? I just want Iwa-chan back."</p><p>They stay there, in the middle of the tent, the great Achilles hunched over in disarray, supported only by the seat of his throne and the strong wiry arms of a slave. The great Achilles, crying alone in his tent.</p><p>"I know, Tooru. I know. I'm so sorry."</p><p>"I don’t want to fight anymore." His voice is muffled by his tears and her shoulder. "I just want to rest."</p><p>Yachi feels tears well up in her own eyes. For all that he's a warrior, he's still a human. Before he was Achilles, he was Oikawa Tooru, <em>philtatos</em> of Iwaizumi Hajime, and he's lost a part of himself.</p><p>"It's okay, Achilles. It's going to be okay."</p><p>He lets her take him to bed, lets her smooth back his shorn hair and wipe the tears from his face. He lets her tuck him in, lets her press a gentle kiss to his forehead. As she turns to leave, his hand shoots out, wrapping around her wrist. His eyes are dark and desperate, his grip tight. "Stay. Please."</p><p>Her heart hurts. Her head aches. She softens. She stays.</p><p>She lets Oikawa pull her to bed, lets herself clamber in beside him. She lets him twine his hands into her hair, lets him bury his face into the crook of her neck. She feels his body shudder with each breath, with each minute, feels the warm damp on her skin, feels the tension leach out of his body as he finally, <em>finally</em>, lets himself fall asleep.</p><p>And as Oikawa cries in her arms, as the Achilles' grief hardens into rage, as Yachi's heart breaks for him, around them, the war rages on.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>notes: Yes the spear thing is an actual reference taken from the original source</p><p>Alt title quote: <em>“Don't leave me here alone! It's your Sam calling. Don't go where I can't follow! Wake up, Mr. Frodo!”  ― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Two Towers</em><br/>I went with the Achilles theme because,,,, theme,,,, but here is a taste of the angst that could have been-</p><p>"Stand in the trench, Achilles, Flame-capped, and shout for me." it's a line from I Saw A Man This Morning by Patrick Shaw-Steward, and references the original illiad and Achilles recovering Patroclus's body. Very sadly, could not really fit it in? But then I made Oiks 'flame capped' at other places so. Forgive me!! Also check out the poem it made me cry</p><p>I named my fic achilles wept but does Oikawa cry? No. He does not. Not enough, anyways.</p><p>Also I have given up on having things make sense but I hope you enjoyed this… angsty disaster? Achilles Come Down is like one of my favourite ever songs!!! Comments kudos screaming always welcome!</p><p>pps: I have no idea how to judge things but if anyone thinks that this counts as graphic descriptions of violence then shoot off a comment and I'll change the tags</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. aftermath</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p><em>And perhaps it is the greater grief, after all, to be left on earth when another is gone.   ― The Song Of Achilles, Madeline Miller</em> </p><p>They win the war. They pay the price.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Achilles.</em>
</p><p>They call him the chosen one, the warrior to absolve the grief of his people. They call him best of men and glory of the gods, they snatch at him with their hands, scrabbling for salvation. Kuroo calls him <em>O mighty warrior, O great Achilles</em> with a tilt of his head and a twitch of his lips. Ushiwaka calls him <em>prideful, arrogant,</em> and frowns at his impulsiveness. The army calls him their strongest, their best weapon, their only hope. Behind closed doors, they murmur about his eyes, his hands, his ability with a sword. They sneer at his flighty smiles and flirtatious tones and lust after his long hair, his slender limbs, his lips curved into an approving smile. Kageyama scowls and calls him <em>The Great King</em>, admiration and envy and fear. Yachi calls him <em>Oikawa-san</em>, and sometimes, in a trembling voice, <em>Tooru.</em></p><p>Kuroo's eyes are sad even as his lips stretch into his signature smirk. "Come on, Achilles. You have to fight. If we lose the war, then Iwaizumi's death was in vain. It would have been meaningless."</p><p>They call for him. <em>Achilles. Save us. Achilles. End the war. Achilles. Bring them home</em>. The only hope to end their pain. Some days, he can barely think straight, the prayers of the people drowning him, trapping him in his mind. Some days, the voices of the people he's killed join the chorus, snarling and hissing and twisting his thoughts.</p><p>"Kuroo," Oikawa says, and he does not, cannot look at him. "Do you think my mother would cry if she saw what I've become?"</p><p>Iwaizumi calls him Oikawa, calls him dumbass, insults him until he remembers he's human. Iwaizumi watches with narrowed eyes as he wears himself out night after night, till his sword blunts and his spear bends, then drags him away for food and sleep. Iwaizumi yells at him when he makes a mistake, laughs when he trips over nothing in early mornings, chases him down in the sand and tickles him until he squeals. Iwaizumi braids his brown hair back before battle, washes the blood out of his bronze hair after, leaves glowing handprints on his skin, pulls him close and kisses him like he's holy, like he's still pure, still deserving.</p><p>Iwaizumi makes him feel less like a weapon and more like a human.</p><p>
  <em>"When I'm Achilles, no one else will die."</em>
</p><p>Kuroo stands. "I've never met your mother. I couldn't say. But think about it. Come back to the war. Don’t let Iwaizumi's death have been for nothing."</p><p>Iwaizumi is dead. His body is ash, his gifts burned with him, his sword melted into unusable ore. Oikawa has nothing left of him, not a single thread tying him to humanity. There's no one who knows him, who knows his mother. <em>Would</em> she be disappointed? He can't tell.</p><p>Iwaizumi is dead, and he's never coming back.</p><p>Oikawa makes up his mind.</p><p>===</p><p>The rumour flies like wildfire around the campsite. <em>The General begged the Achilles on bended knee. The Trickster King pleaded with him, truthful and sincere for once. The King of the Crows offered his kingdom, his honour, his crown.</em></p><p>
  <em>"The Achilles is coming back. The war will be won before the week ends."</em>
</p><p>Kuroo spreads the word. They march for the city walls at dawn. Today, they will take Troy and raze it to the ground, or they will all die in combat. Either way, the war ends soon.</p><p>===</p><p>“Oikawa, I can't let you do this.” Yachi is crying freely, tears streaming down her face. She’s all that stands between the door and Oikawa.</p><p>Oikawa’s hair is dark bronze and his eyes trail golden fire, tears burning down his cheeks. “Yachi, get out of the way.”</p><p>“Iwaizumi wouldn't-“</p><p>Oikawa slams her into the wall, the hard wood digging into her back. “Iwaizumi is <em>dead.</em> And the Trojans have taken him. I am the Achilles, and I must fight for my people. Am I to dishonour my name? To shed my duties? Am I to stain Iwaizumi's legacy by standing by?”</p><p>"Would Iwaizumi want you to murder the whole city? The innocents? The women? The children? Where is the honour in that?"</p><p>"<em>Iwaizumi is dead!</em> The Trojans killed him. I let him go to his death, and they killed him. Is it not enough that he's dead? Is it so much that I don't want his death to have been futile? Troy has been cursing us long enough. It's time to put an end to this."</p><p>"Oh, like you're better, Tooru? You took their prince!"</p><p>"And he took my heart, my soul. He took my humanity, and he had it coming," Oikawa sobs out a laugh. "They're going to pay. I'm going to make them pay."</p><p>"Not if it means killing children! Not if-"</p><p>"<em>Fuck honour!</em>" he screams, face alight with fury. "Fuck honour, fuck the children, fuck Priam and Paris and the whole fucking lot of Troy! Let the city pay for their rulers' sins. Maybe they should have thought twice about stealing, about murdering, about starting a fucking war!"</p><p>“Tooru, you’re hurting me,” she whispers, her voice barely audible. “Tooru, <em>stop!</em>”</p><p>A thin trail of smoke is rising from where his hand grasps her slender wrist. He pulls away to reveal bright red blistered skin.</p><p>"Fuck! Fuck, Yachi, I'm… I'm sorry."</p><p>She clasps her wrist to her chest. "Please don't do this, Tooru. I'm begging you."</p><p>“I am Achilles, unfettered,” he says, golden tears spilling down his face. “I am Achilles, wronged. And I am going to burn the world down.”</p><p>===</p><p>The news reaches Troy. The city trembles with dread. The Achilles is returning to the war. The tide will turn against them.</p><p>Lady Shimizu, locked in the tower with a loom, only smiles. "I told you. My countrymen come for me."</p><p>Even after all these years, she remains as beautiful as the day she was taken. Even after all these years, she remains untouched, the scar of Paris's hip and his crooked nose still throbbing from his first and last attempt to bed her, to wed her.</p><p>Shimizu Kiyoko smiles, and it is as beautiful and terrible as looking straight into the sun. "You are going to lose, Paris. Your Trojans will have died in vain."</p><p>Paris tosses and turns in his bed. Flame blue eyes are imprinted behind his eyelids. The voice echoes in his mind, honey-smooth:<em>Your world in the balance, and you can't kill a single man.</em></p><p>The heavy blade in his hand, the stench of rot and blood in the air, fear freezing his bones, dragging his soul down. Outside his window, the citizens of Troy cry, wailing and screaming in the streets. There are wild parties in the streets, families and friends tearfully uniting for possibly the last time, panic thrumming in the veins of the city.</p><p>Blue eyes burning into his soul. A sword-sharp smile, as deadly as its owner. Strong lines, a beautiful, battered man, blood dripping down the side of his face. Blue eyes, flame blue ice blue sky blue eyes, haunting him every time he blinks. The blue eyes look at him, framed with long dark lashes, and fear mixes with guilt mixes with hatred mixes with desire in his chest. He hears the armies clash outside the walls and blue eyes bore into his soul. He sees his brother cut down in a heartbeat and blue eyes laugh at him mockingly. He watches the bodies of the soldiers being carried into the city, sees the horror and hears the wailing of their families, and blue eyes look at him with disappointment, calmly, so, so, calmly, and he feels like he could scream.</p><p>
  <em>Take heed, Prince of Troy. Because of your weakness, because of your cowardice, thousands more will fall in this war you started. And every single one of these lives will be on your head.</em>
</p><p>The Greeks will storm Troy tomorrow. The city will burn to ashes. He is going to die. He is going to die brideless, helpless, impaled under the spear of blue blue eyes. All this war for nothing. Nothing but his pride, his cowardice.</p><p>He finds that regret tastes acrid, like a rotting corpse, on the tongue. The dishonourable Prince of Troy, stealing another and starting a war. The coward son of Priam, unable to kill even a single man. The weak brother of Hector, inferior in every way, and still too prideful to surrender.</p><p>The Achilles is going to kill them all. And it's going to be his fault.</p><p>===</p><p>They set out for Troy at dawn. Oikawa marches at the head of the army, his short hair a bronze halo glowing around his head, his skin glowing silver and eyes trailing gold. The Trojan army comes out to meet them</p><p>Oikawa looks at them with terrifyingly blank eyes and smiles. He moves forward.</p><p>They never stood a chance.</p><p>The Trojan army is dead. Dead, dead, dead, injured, unconscious, finally every last man is put out of commission. The Greeks stand on a battlefield of corpses. He wipes the blood off his cheek and pushes his shorn hair out of his face. The sun shines weakly through a layer of gray, and Oikawa is smiling, eyes blank and golden.</p><p>The doors to Troy are unguarded. Oikawa rests a glowing hand on the wood, and it begins to smolder. The army chatters with anticipation of loot, of victory, of finally going home.</p><p>"Wait."</p><p>Oikawa pauses, lifting his hand. Kuroo points at the ramparts, where a gray flag of diplomatic meeting waves. The metal bolt crashes, the wooden doors creak, and slowly, the heavy doors open.</p><p>King Priam stands there, alone, unarmed, dressed not in royal indigo, but a simple gray shift and a circlet. "Achilles."</p><p>"King Priam."</p><p>Priam falls to his knees, hands outstretched, pressing his forehead to the floor. "Achilles, grant me an audience. Honour the only wish of an old man."</p><p>Oikawa blinks, the gold mist dissipating. Priam crawls closer, still on his knees, and even Oikawa, heart hardened by rage and grief, is uncomfortable at the sight. He helps Priam up. "Your Majesty. Please, come, sit. Let us talk."</p><p>"Achilles. Oikawa Tooru." His head snaps up at his name, the king tripping over the foreign syllables. "Oikawa-san."</p><p>Priam looks indescribably old, age etched in every line of his face. "Oikawa-san, hear the request of an old man. Hear the last request of a doomed king."</p><p>"Yes."</p><p>"Please, return my son to me." Priam's gray eyes well with tears. "Return his corpse, Achilles, so that we may mourn properly. Return my son, who died with honour."</p><p><em>Honour.</em> Oikawa almost hisses, a retort of his honour on the tip of his tongue. But he looks, really, truly, <em>looks</em> at Priam. And his slate-gray eyes are familiar. Priam grieves for the loss of his son, as he himself does for the loss of Iwaizumi. The old man is a reflection of his pain, of the indescribable, unstoppable ache in his heart. And Oikawa softens.</p><p>"I have no interest in the spilled blood of innocents. Surrender in peace. Return our lady to us, and your son will survive. You've already lost one son. You can stop the loss of another."</p><p>"You are generous and noble, Achilles. Best of men, most beloved, Oikawa Tooru."</p><p>"Don't be naïve, Your Majesty." Oikawa looks down at him, eyes softening. "I'm tired. Pointless war has gone on for too long. The generals and I will be waiting in the camp. You have three days to send your son and our lady, three days of grace and peace before we burn Troy to the ground."</p><p> </p><p>In his tent, Oikawa paces as Yachi looks on.</p><p>"I wanted him to suffer. I wanted to bring Hector's corpse back to Aoba Johsai, flog it in the center of the Kingdom, let the body suffer the pains and griefs of me and my people."</p><p>"Oikawa, that would be impossibly disrespectful. Sacrilege."</p><p>"It doesn't matter. In the end, I couldn't." Oikawa's voice is barely a whisper. "I gave him back, because I understand grief, I understand his pain, I understand what it means to Priam. I gave him back, because I looked at Priam and my grief was reflected in his eyes."</p><p>"Tooru."</p><p>"The war will be over soon, Yachi. We can go home."</p><p>
  <em>Home.</em>
</p><p>"Can either of us really go home anymore?"</p><p>===</p><p>
  <em>Peace is coming. The Achilles is bringing us home.</em>
</p><p>===</p><p>Paris stands on the plains. The great ships of the Greeks are ready to sail, great white sails billowing in the wind. The campground is empty, one single large tent remaining.</p><p>Shimizu Kiyoko is dressed in black, a cloak of feathers flowing in the wind. Paris unlocks the platinum shackle and it falls from her wrist. She inhales deeply, and the wind swirls around her, catching in the feathers, briefly lifting her off her feet. She lands again, and smiles. "Thank you. Shall we?"</p><p>Wordlessly, he offers his arm. She takes it.</p><p>They walk in and every eye turns towards them. All the soldiers feel the pressure of her divinity, all the soldiers see her beauty and power and glory and they understand the years-long war.</p><p>"Shimizu." Daichi's deep voice cracks with relief. "Thank the gods."</p><p>"Sawamura Daichi," she replies, eyes crinkling into a smile. "All this trouble for me?"</p><p>Daichi ushers her out of the room. "Tanaka was quite insistent. Come, let's get you home."</p><p>As they walk out the door, Daichi mouths at Oikawa, <em>Thank you.</em></p><p>"Our end is upheld. Leave Troy, and leave us in peace. We acknowledge our defeat to the Greeks." Paris signs the treaty with a scribble, his hands trembling.</p><p>Kuroo whistles lowly and smiles. The tension falls away, and both he and Ushijima look ten years younger. A stroke of a quill and a years-long war, ended.</p><p>Oikawa turns to leave, striding to the door.. "Thank you, Prince Paris. Two of the Flightless Crows will escort you back to Troy, so none of the other soldiers kill you in the journey."</p><p>He looks to his left and freezes. Kageyama stands there, blue eyes narrowed.</p><p>Blue eyes. Eyes as blue as the burning flame, as blue as the wine-dark sea, as blue as frostbitten lips. Blue eyes, mocking him even now.</p><p>A haunting deep voice, honey-smooth. <em>You can't take a single life.</em> His father's voice. <em>Return my son, who died with honour.</em></p><p>His own. <em>Avenge your brother.</em></p><p>He looks into the blue eyes, and the blue eyes look back, impassive, unreadable.</p><p>In one smooth motion, Paris twists, grabbing the bow from Kageyama's back, pulling an arrow from his quaver,</p><p>The arrow twangs through the air and strikes Oikawa in the back of his knee.</p><p>A deep crack splits the air, as if someone has broken a boulder. The sound of a thousand glass ornaments shattering. Oikawa turns, a look of shock on his face, and slowly crumples to the ground, his leg giving out from under him. Already, blood is pooling around him, far more blood than a knee wound should give.</p><p>Paris's second arrow hits him right between the ribs. It sinks in until only the fletching is visible.</p><p>Someone screams.</p><p>Oikawa laughs. As guards restrain Paris, as Ushijima moves towards him urgently, as Kuroo draws his sword and cuts down Paris before he draws another breath, he laughs and laughs and laughs, deranged. He's sprawled on the ground, chest heaving, gasping for air.  His bronze hair falls around his head like a halo, slowly soaking rust red, glow slowly dulling</p><p>Somewhere along the way, his laughs have turned into sobs.</p><p>The room empties, guards chased off by Kuroo's cat-eyed glare. Ushijima is on his knees next to him in an instant, sword clanging to the ground, and frantically presses his hands to his chest, a cruel reflection of Iwaizumi's death. "Oikawa, no. No, no, no, no, no. This isn't happening."</p><p>"Ushiwaka-chan." Near death, Oikawa is regaining some of his blasé attitude. "Are you so in love with me that you can't see what's happening in front of your eyes?" He coughs wetly, and blood trickles from the corner of his mouth. "It's okay. I've accomplished what I'm meant to do."</p><p>"Oikawa, shut up." Tears, actual real human <em>tears</em> are welling in Ushijima's eyes. "Shut up, shut up, shut up. It's going to be fine. The gods are going to save you."</p><p>"The gods?" His eyes flutter shut. "The gods abandoned me as soon as the war was over. You were right. I dishonoured the dead. The gods needed me to win the war, and now that I have, they have no further use for me."</p><p>"You're not going to die." His voice wavers. "As your general, I forbid it."</p><p>"As the Achilles, don't I outrank you? Do the gods favour you so much that a simple platitude can override the laws of nature? It's okay, Ushijima. I'm not scared." His lips soften into a smile. "I'm not scared at all."</p><p>"I'm sorry." The general's deep voice breaks. "I'm so sorry." He presses his forehead into the bloody ground, kowtowing. "This is all on me."</p><p>Oikawa shoves him gently. "Shut up, Wakatoshi. Keep enough worthless pride for the both of us. It's useless to me where I'm going anyways."</p><p>"Well, Tou-chan, guess you finally got what you deserved." Kneeling next to Ushijima, Kuroo's voice barely wavers, nor does his smile. "Congratulations."</p><p>Blood bubbles at his lips as he laughs. "Tetsurou, you asshole. Give Kodzuken my regards and my apologies, yeah? Probably the best 'I told you so' he'll ever have."</p><p>"Sure. Anything else?"</p><p>"Mmm, a royal proclamation from you praising me would be lovely."</p><p>"I'll be sure to put that on your gravestone. Oikawa Tooru, Achilles, all he wanted was praise from his most amazing friend Kuroo." Kuroo's smirk is fixed firmly in place, but his hands tremble at his sides. Oikawa takes a deep rattling breath.</p><p>"No gravestones for me. Mix my ashes with Iwa-chan's, and scatter them in the sea. At least let our remains be together, even if my soul isn't pure enough to be with his. Can you do that for me, Tetsu, my old friend? Just this one thing."</p><p>A lone tear slides down Ushijima's face. Kuroo's jaw twitches and his smirk grows wider. "Of course. I'm proud to have called you my friend. I suppose your inscription will have to be on a monument."</p><p>"No monuments. Not unless Iwa-chan gets one too."</p><p>"Oh yeah," Kuroo laughs, ruffling his hair. "Twin obelisks. Huge monuments as big as my dick."</p><p>"Tetsuuuuu, Iwa-chan deserves better than something the size of my pinky." Oikawa lilts weakly, his eyes sparking with mischief. Kuroo's smirk shatters and he hunches over himself, shaking, a hand over his face. When he looks back up, his face is blotchy, streaked with tears.</p><p>"Shit, Oikawa, you're a real bastard. Do you <em>have</em> to die?" His voice cracks.</p><p>Oikawa laughs. "Not even you can have a façade that perfect, huh. Sorry, Kuroo. You're going to be a great king."</p><p>There is a patter of footsteps and Yachi bursts into the room, skidding to a stop on her knees to hunch over Oikawa. "Tooru, Tooru, no no no no no, we can fix this, don't die yet, you can't die, you're the Achilles, <em>why are you dying?</em>"</p><p>" It's okay, Yacchan. It's going to be fine."</p><p>Hot tears drip on his face, trailing down the side of his nose. Oikawa weakly laces his fingers with hers, his other hand wiping the tears off her face. "Hey, c'mon, don't cry. It's alright… I'll get to see Iwa-chan again."</p><p>"I'll miss you." The words are barely a whisper.</p><p>Oikawa smiles, eyes sliding shut. "That's okay. You're strong. You'll be fine. Thank you for the last few weeks, Yachi. You made it bearable."</p><p>"…It was my honour."</p><p>Oikawa exhales. He inhales. His lashes flutter. "Sorry, but I'm… tired. I think I can rest now."</p><p>
  <em>"I'll see you soon."</em>
</p><p>He exhales. The choppy ends of his brown hair flutter. His limp hand slips from Yachi's.</p><p>Yachi curls over his body, trembling. Ushijima stands, an impenetrable marble mask. Kuroo sits back onto his heels, hand over his face.</p><p>Daichi skids back into the room, eyes shining with the joy of victory. They crack into cold stone at the scene in front of him, two kings standing over a blonde slave hunched over an unmoving, blood-soaked champion.</p><p>Ushijima kneels, and he bows, pressing his blood-streaked bangs to the ground. Kuroo shifts his weight onto his knees and bows his head, his tears clearing blotches in the coagulating red. Daichi unslings his sword from his back and kneels, pressing his fingers into the blood and sketching the mourning runes into the stone.</p><p>Somewhere, a lone bird caws.</p><p>The war is won. The Achilles is dead.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Almost there!!! One last chapter to go -- it's going to be a wrap-up epilogue</p><p>Sorry I didn’t put the trojan horse, it just didn’t really make sense in the context of this story. </p><p>Kudos and comments always welcome!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. clarity.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <em>This is the fate the gods have spun for poor mortal men, that we should live in misery, but they themselves have no sorrows   ― The Iliad, Homer</em>
</p><p>The things that don't fit anywhere else:</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Their homecoming is delayed by the funeral.</p><p> </p><p><br/>
The identity of the dead.</p><p>Yachi is the only one alive who knew him, the only one who cared. Oh, sure, Kuroo was his friend once, but the war sucked him up and twisted him into the Trickster King, King of Nekoma. Ushijima hated him, or maybe he loved him, but he didn’t know him. They would have etched his name across the raised bone, etched <em>Achilles</em> after it.</p><p>Yachi is the one who picks up an ink brush with trembling hands, the one who sketches dark characters along the pale swoop of his collarbone.</p><p>
<em>及川 徹 . Son of Thetis, most beloved, he who loved Iwaizumi Hajime. </em>
</p><p>May you be defined not by your title, but by the people you loved, by the people who loved you.</p><p>The shroud falls.</p><p> </p><p><br/>
"Hey, Ushijima. Mourning alone?"</p><p>"Kuroo Tetsurou."</p><p>His voice is uncharacteristically gentle. "How're you holding up?"</p><p>"I never told him I was sorry. That despite everything, I admired him greatly."</p><p>Kuroo places a hand on his shoulder. "It wasn't your fault. This was the path the gods opened, the fate they set."</p><p>He looks up, wet trails forming down his face. "I loved him."</p><p>Kuroo's eyes are sad. "I know."</p><p> </p><p><br/>
<em>"Where do you think you deserve to go?"</em></p><p>
  <em>"The Fields of Punishment. I dishonoured the gods, dishonoured the dead. I have the blood of innocents on my hands."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"And where do you want to go?"</em>
</p><p>His lips stretch into something that might have been a smile. <em>"Where do you think? Where everyone else wants to go. To Elysium."</em></p><p> </p><p><br/>
A shadow falls across her.</p><p>"Yachi Hitoka."</p><p>She looks up. Her heart flutters, and she jumps to her feet. "Lady Shimizu!"</p><p>The dark haired lady smiles at her. "Kiyoko is fine. May I sit with you for a while?"</p><p>Yachi nods, tongue-tied. Kiyoko smooths down her skirts and sits next to her.</p><p>"I'm sorry about the war."</p><p>"What?" Yachi's eyes widen and she waves her hands frantically. "No, no, it wasn't your fault! It was Troy's fault, and Troy's alone."</p><p>"Hitoka-chan, how much did you lose in the war?"</p><p>"My father died, but I never really cared for him either way. My sister was killed by a soldier, but Tooru killed him later. I guess mostly… I lost a friend?"</p><p>Kiyoko's eyes hold… <em>something</em> as she smiles. "Yacchan, you're not even full grown. You've lost your youth."</p><p>"Please don't call me that." Her voice is quiet. "Tooru used to call me that, before he died. Please don't call me that."</p><p>"Hitoka, do you want to go home?"</p><p>Yachi looks up, startled.</p><p>Kiyoko stretches out her legs and stares up at the wide blue sky. "When I was in Troy, they kept me in a tower. They didn't try to touch me, not after I stabbed Paris and reminded them of Karasuno's threats. It was high up, and I could see the whole city. I could see how the rich lived in luxury and how their poor suffered. I could see how the armies clashed outside the walls of Troy. But I couldn't see the sky. There was a roof, you see, stretching out over my window, and it blocked my sight. I was trapped in dark stone."</p><p>Her eyes flutter shut. "The wind in my hair, the sun on my skin. It's something I haven't felt in years. And the voice of my goddess is something that has been banished from me. I barely remember what she sounds like. Hitoka-chan, do you have a home you miss?"</p><p>Blonde hair flutters as she shakes her head. "I… don't think I had a 'home' in the first place."</p><p>"For me, home is a bright castle, being surrounded by cheerful boys in dark cloaks. Home is the sharp cliffs of Karasuno, the obsidian slate of the temples. Home is advising Daichi on his country, blessing acolytes and pilgrims, keeping the temple running. Home is the feeling of the goddess seeing through my eyes. Home is seeing Tanaka's earnest clumsy wooing, sitting in the banquet hall at the left hand of the king."</p><p>Her dark eyes are sad. "Years have passed. People have changed. Hundreds, maybe thousands have died. I don't hear what I used to anymore. I wonder what 'home' is like?"</p><p>"<em>Can either of us really go home anymore,</em>" she murmurs, rolling the words in her mouth like pearls. She knows she can't. Her home died with her sister, with Oikawa. Her home is gone, lost in a war no one asked to fight. Her sisters scattered to the winds, either as burnt ashy remains or smuggled away on Greek boats to safe homes at the corners of the kingdoms.</p><p>Once, Iwaizumi had promised to show her around Aoba Johsai. Oikawa had promised to bring her to the best dressmaker in town. They promised her security and freedom, a place to come back to and enough funds to travel the world. They promised her somewhere safe, somewhere warm. Even now, there is a room being prepared on a Seijoh ship for her, ready to carry her to their home, ready to fulfil dead men's promises.</p><p>She thinks it will just feel empty and cold without them there.</p><p>"Have you heard of marriages of divinity?"</p><p>"It's what King Kuroo has waiting for him, when he gets back home. It's… a marriage between the head of the divine and the head of state?"</p><p>"Karasuno doesn't have this tradition. But I think I'm going to leave the Crow Maidens. I think… I think I'm tired of being the shining Lady of Karasuno, the beacon of light. I'm going to step down, marry the man I love, live out my life as Daichi's friend and advisor and half-sister-in-law."</p><p>"Kiyoko-san, why are you telling me this?"</p><p>Kiyoko smiles at Yachi, warm and sweet and safe. "Hitoka, I'm offering you a chance. Come with me to Karasuno. Live amongst the Crow Maidens and the Flightless Crows. You can be an acolyte of the Goddess, and maybe someday you can be Lady of Karasuno. I'm offering you friendship, safety, a house full of life and people."</p><p>She stretches out a hand, pale and warm and smooth. "Yachi, I'm offering you a home."</p><p>A home. That sounds… nice.</p><p>Yachi takes it.</p><p> </p><p><br/>
Priam sits alone in his bedchamber. The palace is untouched, unburnt, the relic of a peaceful surrender. Priam sits alone in his bedchamber, and his heart is heavy.</p><p>
  <em>My son. My prideful, beautiful son. Why did you have to attack him? Why did you have to die?</em>
</p><p>Priam sees gold eyes fading to brown. He sees a tear trickle down the Achilles' cheek. He sees Hector's body returned, untouched except for the curse carved into his skin.</p><p>He sees Paris's corpse brought into Troy, pierced through the heart with a sword. His entourage confirms that it wasn't his fault, that they only killed him in self defense.</p><p>Priam believes them. Priam knows it's true, that his rash son would seize the chance to play hero. Priam also knows that everyone is tired, every last Trojan, and they just want the war to end.</p><p>Priam buries his wrinkled old face in his frail bony hands, and he weeps for his family.</p><p> </p><p><br/>
<em>"Do they mourn?"</em></p><p>
  <em>"Of course."</em>
</p><p> </p><p><br/>
Kuroo runs a hand through his hair. With the other hand, he's sketching in the sand with a stick, muttering numbers and calculations.</p><p>"Already planning a memorial?"</p><p>He looks up to meet Daichi's warm eyes. "I did promise him two memorials, obelisks larger than my dick."</p><p>Daichi chokes out a laugh. "I await your… constructions… with enthusiasm."</p><p>"Congratulations on winning the war, King Daichi."</p><p>"We all know it was because of Oikawa's sacrifice. Tanaka is going to be ecstatic to be reunited with his lady love."</p><p>Kuroo drops the stick and dusts off his hands. "So what lies in your future? Do you have a lady love to be reunited with?"</p><p>His mouth twists wryly. "What else will I do? I take my Flightless Crows back to my kingdom. I rule with a firm hand, like I have before. I marry Lady Michimiya Yui, my betrothed. I-" his breath stutters slightly. "I take the throne back from my best friend and rule with him at my right hand."</p><p>"Your best friend and second in command. Sugawara Koushi." Kuroo's voice is gentle. "You love him."</p><p>"Yes."</p><p>"He loves you."</p><p>A hesitation, barely there. "Yes."</p><p>"Then why?"</p><p>"I could bring myself to love her."</p><p>"Is that enough?"</p><p>"My duty to my kingdom comes first." His tone is heavy, resigned, proud, a million things rolled into one. "It will be."</p><p>Kuroo is filled with respect and admiration for the square-shouldered, set-jawed man in front of him.</p><p>"And you, Kuroo? Where are you going?"</p><p>"I'm sailing home to Edo, to Nekoma. To my betrothed and my heir. My kingdom. Where else would a king go?"</p><p>Daichi chuckles. "Don't become a stranger, Kuroo Tetsurou."</p><p>"Same to you, Sawamura Daichi," Kuroo says, extending a hand. "Our kingdoms are allied, are they not? Come by for dinner. Stay for a while. There's always some diplomatic affair to work out."</p><p>"I will be glad to sup in your halls." Daichi clasps his hand firmly. "And you are always welcome in Karasuno."</p><p>"I'll see you around, Sawamura."</p><p>"Kuroo," Daichi calls as he strides away. "Work through your grief. Work through it with someone you trust, or it will dissolve you from the inside."</p><p>Kuroo clutches the urn of mixed ashes to his chest. He steps onto his ship, he looks out over the sea, he imagines his friends. He imagines Iwaizumi and Oikawa laughing on the shores, slipping between the waves, standing at the prow of a ship with their hair in the wind. His vision of Oikawa looks at him and smiles, waving. His vision of Iwaizumi whispers something in his ear, and they both crack a sly grin, and Kuroo's heart twists familiar in his chest, an old sense of prankster joy, a new familiarity of grief.</p><p>He thinks of his kingdom, coaxed from barrenness to prosperity. He thinks of his heir, of Lev with silver hair and curious green eyes, lanky frame and overeager to improve. He thinks of his Kenma, his hair bleached half gold. How much has it grown? How much has <em>he</em> grown? How much has everything changed?</p><p>He does not know.</p><p>As the ship speeds away from Troy, he opens the urn, leaving behind a fluttering trail of ash.</p><p>From the corner of his eye, he sees his visions of dead men flicker, smiling sadly, and disappear.</p><p> </p><p><br/>
Yachi Hitoka steps off the boat, waving at Daichi. "I'll just be a minute," she calls back over her shoulder. Daichi frowns worriedly at her slight frame vanishing into the crowd, but Kiyoko's pale hand is cool on his shoulder.</p><p>"Trust in her. She can take care of herself."</p><p>Daichi forces himself to relax and turns to help his men restock the ship for the rest of the journey to Karasuno.</p><p>She was right. The streets of Aoba Johsai, packed as they may be, are empty and cold without Iwaizumi or Oikawa. The streets thrum with grief, at the death of their peoples, the death of their heroes.</p><p>Yachi kneels at a grave and pours out a libation of honeyed wine.</p><p>"Lady Thetis. You should be proud of your son. He loved you and still thought of your, till the end. Thank you, for raising a good man."</p><p>She kneels in her pristine white shift, and presses her forehead into the dirt. "He can rest now. He's saved us all."</p><p> </p><p><br/>
<em>"Who are you, Achilles?"</em></p><p>He is dissolving in the void, slowly fading out of existence. Who is he? He does not know.</p><p>A dark definition swooping across his skin. "I am Oikawa Tooru, son of Thetis, Most Beloved. I am he who loved Iwaizumi Hajime, he who was loved in return."</p><p>There is something like the quirk of a brow. <em>"And?"</em></p><p>He shrugs something that was once a shoulder. "You call me Achilles, so I must have been that. It doesn't matter to me."</p><p>
  <em>"Nothing else?"</em>
</p><p>"What else is there?"</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>"You are defined by those you love, by those who love you. You do not define yourself by the glory you gain, by the lives you've taken."</em>
</p><p>"They are not my victories to win."</p><p>
  <em>"Being Achilles is both a blessing and a curse. You carry the weight of a nation on your shoulders. You're still human, fragile. Once he was gone, there was no one to bear your weight."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Yachi Hitoka made a valiant attempt. By her virtue, and by her love, we will spare you."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Perhaps it was cruel of us to expect so much from an untethered not-god."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"We are sorry, Oikawa Tooru, for making you bear this alone."</em>
</p><p> </p><p><br/>
Blue eyes are dull as they stare aimlessly out at the sea. "It feels like my fault."</p><p>Hinata plonks himself down next to Kageyama. "Why?"</p><p>"If I had killed Paris, if I hadn't brought my archer's weapons, if I had only been better, faster-"</p><p>"You saved him once at the beginning of the war," Hinata points out gently. "Miracles only happen once, Tobio."</p><p>"I admired him so much, and I hated him almost as much as that."</p><p>Hinata hugs him, and Kageyama melts into his wiry arms. "It's alright. He's with Iwaizumi now. He's happy. It wasn't your fault."</p><p>He buries his face into Hinata's neck. "He was so strong. I don't know what I would've done if I lost you, my <em>philtatos</em>."</p><p>"Well, I did almost lose you once, and that was terrifying." He presses a gentle kiss to Kageyama's cheek. "It's going to be okay. It's our turn to be the protagonists of the world."</p><p> </p><p>Kageyama leaves fresh wreaths at their monuments every few months. It takes three years for him to stop blaming himself.</p><p> </p><p><br/>
<em>"I think I see now. It was never about the glory for you, was it? Not since long ago. It was about the people. It was always about the people."</em></p><p>
  <em>"I absolve you of your sins, Achilles. I absolve you of your sorrows. I absolve you of your curse."</em>
</p><p>He screams soundlessly, feeling the divinity, the power, being stripped from his bones.</p><p>A cool hand on his forehead. <em>"You can rest now, Achilles-no-longer. Thank you."</em></p><p> </p><p>===</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>"---."</em>
</p><p>Keiji Akaashi stands on the riverbank, his eyes emerald and glowing. He stands over a figure, crumpled in on itself.</p><p>
  <em>"---, it's time to go."</em>
</p><p>The figure stirs, shaking brown strands out of his face. Wordlessly, he unfolds and stands. Akaashi reaches out a hand, and the figure takes it, trembling. They walk in silence along the bone-gray sand.</p><p>The figure speaks first. "…your eyes."</p><p>Akaashi raises one slender brow. "What about them?"</p><p>"They're wrong."</p><p>They stop by a jutting plank. Akaashi kneels and runs a hand through the pitch black water. <em>It's coming.</em> "Wrong? How so?"</p><p>"…They're the wrong shade of green."</p><p>Akaashi smiles. "That's because I'm not the one you're looking for."</p><p>He stands, a rope in hand, and rests his palm on the figure's chest. A silver glow spreads from his palm until it covers the figure completely. The figure's brown eyes sharpen, a mist lifting from them. His lips part to yell-</p><p>Akaashi covers his mouth and presses the rope into his hand. "Go on. He's waiting for you."</p><p> </p><p><br/>
A silver figure leaps from a phantom boat, the elegance of a panther in his limbs. His hair brightens from brown to bronze, growing behind him as he runs, caught in an unseen wind.</p><p>Up ahead, the gates of Elysium await, pure and white and glowing. By the gates, a single shade, crouching, waiting. At the sound of footsteps, he looks up. The silver figure stops dead in his tracks. Their eyes meet, and a tuning fork is struck, the air ringing with one single, perfect, harmonic note.</p><p>The silver figure takes off, his hair streaming behind him like a banner of victory. The other stands, opening his arms and catching him with practiced ease. As their hands touch, a wave of gold light ripples out from his center. The silver figure laughs, a pure, tinkling sound, and pulls him into a kiss, hands coming up to cup his face. A golden arm snakes around his waist, the tension bleeding out of his shoulders.</p><p>
  <em>"Iwa-chan."</em><br/>
<em>"Oikawa. I've missed you."</em>
</p><p>He takes his hand.</p><p>
  <em>(It's quiet.)</em>
</p><p>Hand in hand, they enter Elysium.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Whehw this is finally over~ I've been drafting this since like, October 2020 :3 I really hope you guys enjoyed it!<br/>I tried to be as faithful to the 'core' of the patroclus and achilles story as I could? Changed some details here and there to fit the plot and also the characters and also because I <em>just</em> started reading the Illiad (it is hitting me hard!! I love it!!) and thus there are inaccuracies and differences but I did my best!</p><p>Thanks for sticking with me through 6 chapters and I don't even know how long!! Really appreciate you guys &lt;33</p><p>Author notes:<br/>&gt; sorry I know the god system in this fic is lowkey really messed up and uhhhh idk bc it's canon that the gods only play when they want to so I guess. It's fine???<br/>&gt; I made Oikawa 'silver' bc the fanon motif for Oikawa is 'second best' and also Seijoh themes suit him and that’s more silver than gold<br/>&gt; his hair turns bronze when he's in 'achilles state' aka actively blessed by the divine because that was his wish in the tournament<br/>&gt; Iwa is gold because plot twist he's best of men with a heart of gold blah blah blah<br/>&gt; I absolutely wrote this fic just to write chapter 4 and the last scene of this chapter because I wanted to see angry oiks with long hair absolutely overflowing with rage and power<br/>&gt; Iwa is the only one who can hurt him because they're so close and they're practically part of each other!<br/>&gt; I know I made a reference to Oiks becoming a 'god' but then the writing got away from me and I just emphasized the mortal side<br/>&gt; yeah im a little guilty that I didn’t put mattsun or makki and more seijoh bbs but then by the time I remembered I was halfway through chapter two- sorry-<br/>&gt; Opened with 'begin' and ended with 'clarity' JUST for the iwaoi naming im weak sorry</p><p>I can trace my crippling addiction to Achilles back to one specific book in my primary school and my HQ addiction back to one specific friend (thanks audrey). Still can't believe iwaoi patrochilles hasn't been done before (I looked for one. For so long. For unbelievably long. Please recommend one if you find it.) and I really hope I did these boys justice! Leave comments kudos anything if you enjoyed it, I <em>live</em> off those~</p><p>(and idk I'm not saying I'll do kuroken odyssey but hmm if I have time…)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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